by Jillian Hart
A muscle worked in his neck, perhaps his attempt at controlling his emotions. “Will you allow me to help you, Joanna?”
“I’ll allow you to help my children.” It took all her dignity to keep her chin up. “I appreciate your offer, Aiden.”
“Good.” His fists loosened. “Your gelding needs care. The balm you’re using is what most folks use, but I’ve got something better.”
“I noticed that you had done something different to it. Thank you for that.”
“It was no trouble. You’d best be leaving the gelding here, as you’re staying. I’ll be by after I’m done in the fields to help you unpack your wagon.”
“I hate to trouble you, Aiden. I suppose you have fence work to do, and haying?” She said the last like a question.
“You were a farmer’s wife.”
“And a farmer’s daughter. If you need an extra hand, I can drive horses, turn hay and I’m good at pitching.”
“I never would have guessed that.” He had his opinion about women working in the field—he had never wanted his wife to labor that hard—but Joanna spoke of her experience with a hint of pride. He had to admire a good work ethic.
“I have a certain knack with topping haystacks. I’d be happy to help. I have the children, but…” She stopped, leaving the question unasked.
He had his beliefs, but he wasn’t about to deny her the chance to make her life right again. “I reckon we will figure something out. Perhaps my ma wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on them. We’ll see.”
“That would be wonderful.” Tension rolled off her. She smiled up at him, and in the dappled stripes of sunlight coming through the plank walls, she seemed transformed. Young and dainty and softly beautiful.
Aiden felt his throat tighten up with too many emotions—too much feeling for a man who’d lost his heart—and looked away. “Where are your children?”
“Playing in the yard by the wagon. I can see them…” She glanced through the slatted walls. “James is watching his sister.”
Aiden managed to nod and to keep his eyes down on the straw at his boots. It was easy to hear the affection soften her voice. He figured love would do the same to her face. Best not to be noticing that. He took a step back. “Why don’t you bring your children up to the house? There’s a platter in the warmer for them.”
“We ate.”
Toasted bread, or oatmeal, was his guess. “Treat them to the food you fixed. There’s plenty, and make sure you feed yourself, too. I mean that, Joanna. Then clean up the kitchen when you’re done.”
He winced inside at the sound of his hard tone. He didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t allow himself to soften toward her. He ignored the ache in the hollows of his chest and took the gelding by the rope.
He could feel her gaze searching his face as he turned to the horse, pretending she was already gone from the barn and on her way to follow his orders. But she wasn’t. She stood in the aisle, her presence as sweet as morning light. He could feel the radiance of her smile, sweeter than spun sugar, before she turned and hurried away.
“Ma! Ma! Look at me!” Daisy sang out as she climbed a boulder at the edge of the field, her little blue dress snapping in the breeze. Sunshine glinted like gold in her hair as she followed her brother to the flat top of the large rock. “Look, Ma!”
“I’m looking, sweet girl.” Joanna laughed as she hefted the crate off the wagon’s tailgate. She had already put in a hard day in Aiden’s kitchen, first cleaning up the breakfast dishes and then baking and cooking and cleaning up after that. Then there had been the shanty to scrub clean—it was surprisingly dusty, with a thick layer of dirt in the corners. Now there was the wagon to unload, and she wasn’t about to wait for Aiden to come in from his work. He’d done more than enough for her already.
“Ma! I’m gonna jump!” Daisy crept to the edge of the rock, afraid but determined. She grasped her brother’s shirtsleeve with fisted hands.
James looked burdened. “Ma! She’s on my fort.”
“I see that. You’re a good boy to let her play with you.”
James didn’t say anything to that, but the look on his face was one of adorable resignation. He clutched a wooden horse, as if he’d been about to set up his horse corral on part of that boulder top.
Joanna carried the crate across the ripening grasses, keeping a watchful eye for Daisy’s courageous jump. It was good to see them so happy. James had been such a good boy, watching his sister play with her doll by the shanty door all the while Joanna had been cleaning. Her son looked more secure as he leaned close to whisper something in his sister’s ear. Daisy lit up with a huge smile and then bunched up before leaping off the rock. She landed on both feet, squealing.
“Ma! Did you see? I jumped!”
“I saw. That was the best jump I ever saw.” Joanna loved knowing that her children would have the security of home. That for now, for a while, they could play in this field and jump from that rock like normal kids. They were no longer homeless. It hurt to accept Aiden’s charity, but looking at her little ones, she had no other choice.
“Ma!” Daisy came racing through the grass, hardly visible, it was so high. “Watch. I’m gonna do it again. James! James! Are you gonna jump, too?”
James had that put-upon look again, but good boy that he was, he merely blew out a breath. “Yes, Daisy. Now, stand back.”
Joanna stepped into the shanty’s shadow and suddenly felt that she wasn’t alone.
“That looks heavy. Let me get it.” Aiden stepped into sight in his work clothes and heavy boots, dusted with bits of cut grass. He smelled sweet with it. “I thought I asked you to wait for me.”
“I’m not so good at following orders, as my former husband learned to his great dissatisfaction.”
“Did he now? I did not have the best success with my Kate.” Aiden took the crate out of Joanna’s hands. “Why don’t we make a bargain? If you don’t mind fetching me some cold well water, I’ll empty out your wagon.”
“You’re trying to keep me busy and out of the way.”
“I’m thirsty,” he corrected, and it was hard to tell if he was unhappy with her or simply being his stoic, reserved self. “And I don’t take to women doing heavy lifting. Next you’ll be telling me you’re capable. I don’t doubt it. But a man ought to make a woman’s load lighter, even if they’re strangers to one another.”
Joanna took a step back to study the man before her, damp with a hard day’s sweat in high temperatures. He did look intimidating. But there was kindness on his face. It was an attractive combination. She shook her head. “You have some mighty strange notions, Aiden McKaslin, but I do happen to like them.”
“What’s mighty strange about them?”
He didn’t seem to know, she marveled, wondering how on earth he could be real. But he was a flesh and blood man standing before her, of that there was no doubt. She headed for the shanty. “I’m used to men trying to get out of work, not stepping up to do it.”
“I’m not afraid of a little hard work.” He didn’t crack a smile, but he sounded slightly amused, although it was hard to tell with his deep, wry baritone. “I see that you watered the garden, so I know you found the well.”
“I did. Don’t worry. I’ll fetch your water.”
“I had to wonder, since you were heading in the opposite direction from the well.”
“To grab the water pail.” She snatched the bucket from just inside the shanty door, and took off toward the main house. On the rising slope of land, she had a better view of her children. James had turned to watch her with careful, inquisitive eyes, just making sure. She hated that he worried so. One small change—her stepping away to fetch water—and he went from a carefree little boy to a burdened one. She lifted her hand in a wave to show him everything was fine. After a moment he went back to play, paying attention to Daisy, who tugged on his hand.
When Joanna knelt at the well to hook the bucket onto the end of the pulley, Aiden had emerged from the sh
anty, his arms empty of the crate. He was a big man, even from a distance. He had a long gait, steady and strong, and did not swing his arms when he walked but kept them at his sides. His wide-brimmed hat shaded his face as he hauled a straw tick from the wagon bed. He easily carried the awkward mattress, quickly disappearing into the house.
What I lost is in the past. Perhaps God has put you in my path to teach me. She could hear again his words and see again the look of desolation on his face. She ached for him. He’d shown her kindness when she had been sure there was no more of it left in the world. He was a good man, and in her experience, those were rare. She intended to do the best possible job for him. She was going to work harder than she ever had. He deserved nothing less.
“Ma!” Daisy ran ahead of James, who had come close to watch the unloading of the wagon. “Can I have a drink of water, too, please?”
It was impossible to look into those pretty eyes and say no. Joanna unhooked the bucket of crystal-clear water and held the full dipper for her daughter. Smelling of fresh grass and sunshine, Daisy leaned close and sipped daintily. Joanna smoothed the fine tangle of platinum hair that had escaped from her daughter’s twin braids. It would need a good brushing later.
A movement blurred at the edges of her vision. It was Aiden reappearing from the shanty, bringing the shadows with him. He cut a dark figure across the lush green prairie. His wide hat shaded his face, but she could feel his gaze on her like the tangible rays of the sun.
“Come on, baby.” Daisy was done, so Joanna took the dipper and dropped it into the bucket. “Let’s take this to Mr. McKaslin.”
“Okay.” Her daughter bobbed to her feet and skipped through the tall grasses. Her happy gait lifted Joanna’s heart another notch.
Aiden had already hefted the second straw tick from the wagon box and was halfway to the shanty. This time James trailed after him and hesitated on the front step, peering in. Joanna set the small pail on the open tailgate. “James? Don’t pester Mr. McKaslin, honey.”
“But I gotta thank him for the bacon!” Earnestly, the little boy planted both dusty feet.
“No need, little man.” Aiden filled the shaded doorway.
James hopped back, his head tilted to gaze up at the tall man. “I can help. I’m real strong.”
“I see that.”
Aiden’s tone might be gentle, but she could see his white-knuckled fists and the cords tight in his throat as he marched back to the wagon. She didn’t get the feeling that he disliked children—no, not that. She thought of what he’d told her, and wondered if her children were a reminder, too. Her spirit ached for him, and she laid a hand on Daisy’s little shoulder, pulling her close to her skirts.
“James,” she said softly. “Keep out of Mr. McKaslin’s way.”
“But I’m helpin’.” James proudly climbed into the wagon box.
“James.” She loved him for his good heart, but the last thing she wanted to do was cause Aiden more pain.
“It’s all right, Joanna.” He swept off his hat, stopping to take a long cold drink. “Thank you kindly, for I’ve been thirsty. I see you already carried in what you could. I’ll finish up bringing in the furniture, if you want to help yourself to my kitchen and start on dinner. Finn and I will be in the field until dark. If you don’t mind, if you could bring our meals out to us.”
“And water, too,” she said with a nod.
“That would be greatly appreciated, ma’am.” He dropped the dipper back into the bucket and the hat onto his head. He had a fair piece of work ahead of him if he wanted the last of the south field cut before the Sabbath. “I’d best get crackin’.”
“Come help me in the kitchen, James.” Joanna held out her hand. The boy gave a sigh but did as he was told, and followed his ma and sister through the whispering grasses.
This wasn’t going to be an easy thing, having her here. Aiden steeled himself and held his feelings still. This was going to be tough on him. He’d learned that the right thing rarely was the easy thing. God was surely handing him a challenge when he’d put Joanna Nelson in his path.
I hope I don’t let you down, Lord. Aiden slung a wooden rocking chair over his shoulder, rockers skyward, and lumbered back to the shanty.
Already she had changed it. He set the chair down by the window. There was something different about a house with a woman in it. It smelled pretty, looked tidy, felt peaceful. The old tick on the bed was made up as neat as a pin with a colorful ringed quilt. A tiny crate of blue dishes sat on the floor next to the table. A towel embroidered with roses at the hem hung on the bar next to the water basin.
The sound of children’s laughter drifted on the wind. Why that picked his spirits up, he couldn’t quite say. He stacked Joanna’s straw ticks and laid them flat next to the bed. She would be more comfortable with the second mattress between her and the hard dirt floor.
The shanty wasn’t much, but it had housed his family just fine when he was a boy. The roof needed a bit of work, he thought as he stepped outside, but he would get to it before the next heavy rain. As he hiked up the rise, he caught sight of the children running in the grass outside the main house’s back door. The little girl gave a musical giggle and the boy let out a whoop as he carried his wooden horse high.
Aiden tried not to think of the son he’d buried. The little boy he had never gotten to know. He swallowed his emotions, skirted the house and cut behind the barn. The sounds of the children seemed to follow him, those carefree, innocent sounds, teasing at the lost places within him.
What was he going to tell his family? They were bound to find out come church tomorrow. This was only the start of speculation, he knew. His ma and middle brother, Thad, thought he ought to get married again. His mother would especially start quoting Scripture on the subject. Now, he wasn’t objecting to the Scripture as much as to his ma getting her hopes up. Ever since Thad and his wife, Noelle, had gotten married earlier in the year, she had hopes for grandchildren again.
Hopes Aiden could never see clear to fulfilling. Love could put softness into a man’s life, and that was nice. Real nice. But it left him wide-open and vulnerable, without a single defense. He’d been broken clear to the quick. There had been no way to prevent it. When Kate and his son died, it had cost him too much. There was no color in Aiden’s world, no gentleness, no music. There would never be again. His ma wouldn’t understand, nor Thad, either.
But perhaps Joanna did.
If he glanced over his shoulder, he could see the kitchen windows clearly. Sun streamed into the room, backlighting the woman there. She was searching through the cabinets for something…she went up on tiptoe and brought down a large mixing bowl.
He could not say why he lingered to watch her as she set the bowl on the counter. Her long skirt swished around her ankles as she headed to the pantry. She stopped by the door, disappearing from his sight, perhaps to check on the children. Sure enough, both the girl and boy stopped playing and called out to her in reassurance that they were staying close by, before she swept back into his sight with a small sack of sugar.
He could not say when it happened. He only knew the sunshine felt warmer on his face and the hollow where his heart used to be felt less cold.
Work was waiting, so he turned and headed back to the south field.
Chapter Six
It was a beautiful morning, Joanna decided as she wiped the last ironstone plate dry and stowed it on the shelf. She laid the dish towel over the top rung of the ladder-back chair and carried the washbasin to the doorway.
The children were playing outside in the sun. Their innocent laughter brought joy to her heart. They were her greatest blessings. The best things that had ever happened to her. Since it was Sunday, it was a good day to make a list of her blessings. It had once been a short list, but now it was much longer. Because of Aiden.
She sent a sparkling arc of water flying into the brilliant sunshine beside the path to the door. There was Aiden McKaslin driving a wagon behind his matched set
of black Clydesdales. He was dressed in his Sunday best, a tan hat, a blue shirt and tan trousers. He was a fine-looking man.
He reined the horses in and studied her a moment from the high seat, his gaze stony.
She felt plain in her best sprigged calico and with her braids pinned up in a simple coil. “Mr. McKaslin. I was just about to come find you.”
“Guess I saved you the trouble.” The brim of his hat shaded his face, and so his expression remained a mystery. “I wasn’t sure, but I thought you were a churchgoing woman. Wanted to ask if you and your children wanted a ride in to town.”
A ride? With him? She gripped the ironware basin so hard the rim bit into her fingers. In the background, her children had stopped playing, to watch the man with guarded interest. “We planned on walking.”
“That’s a mighty long distance for your wee one.”
“I was going to carry her.”
“Carry her? That’s a far way.” His jaw snapped shut and tension bunched in the corners. He looked out at the prairie stretching off toward the mountains, toward town. “I know you want to save your horse’s hoof. I suppose the other one doesn’t drive well alone?”
“That’s right.” Joanna wondered what was troubling him. “I did not accept your offer to cause you more trouble, Mr. McKaslin. I can see what you’re about to ask. I know you feel your Christian duty deeply, and I respect you for it, but not if it causes you pain. I’m not here to bring you more trouble.”
His midnight-blue eyes snapped to her, studying her bare head—she’d not put on her bonnet yet—and her feet peeping out from beneath her skirt ruffle. Again, she felt oddly plain, and that made no sense. She knew she’d always been a plain woman. But now watching Aiden up on that high seat, looking handsome and powerful with that backdrop of rich blue sky and pure white clouds, her breath hitched in her chest a tad. Soft feelings—kind feelings—rushed into her heart for this man.
“I don’t mind a little trouble, Joanna.” Aiden knuckled back his hat.