High Country Bride

by Jillian Hart

  She remembered the image of him in the kitchen with his hands to his face. Surely the feelings swirling to life within her were deep admiration and respect for him. Surely that was all and nothing more.

  “As I’m already here and we’re both going the same way, you may as well come along. Is that all right with you?” He leaned forward in the seat, his gaze on hers, his strong frame tensed.

  Realizing she had been staring at him for too long, she blushed and ripped her eyes away. She glanced down at the basin she was gripping with white-knuckled fingers. “Y-yes. It would be better for the children.”

  “Fine, then.” He leaned back against the seat and crossed his ankles, as if setting in for a pleasant wait.

  I’ve never met a man like him before. Her eyes found him like sunlight found the earth. The feelings within her sweetened. Surely it was impossible not to admire him. There was nothing wrong with a little admiration for the man who had done so much for them, right?

  Right. She whirled around and hurried into the shade of the shanty. Every step she took, she remained aware of Aiden high up on his wagon seat behind her. She thought of his brother, who usually accompanied him to town. Where was Finn? Had she caused trouble between them? Worry curled in her stomach as she buttoned up her shoes. And what were folks in town going to think when she walked into the church vestibule with him?

  People were bound to talk; it was simply human nature. And without a doubt, that talk, that speculation, would hurt Aiden. As if a man who had loved and lost as deeply as he had could simply start courting again. No one in his or her right senses would ever mistake his sense of kindness for romantic interest.

  Joanna set the sunbonnet on her head and tied the ribbons beneath her chin, glancing in the small mirror. She was too thin, too peaked, too ordinary. No man was going to love her. She’d learned that the hard way.

  “Ready?” Aiden called from the wagon seat.

  “Yes.” She closed the shanty door, turning to call for the children, but they were already close, standing at the edge of the grass with quiet, solemn expressions. Bits of grass clung to Daisy’s pink gingham skirt, and dust streaked James’s cheek, but they still looked presentable.

  She held out her hands. “Isn’t this a treat? We get a ride to church.”

  Daisy galloped forward and grabbed her mother’s fingers. James looked up wistfully at Aiden and took her other hand. She was surprised to hear the seat springs squeak faintly. Aiden’s shadow fell across her as he descended. She felt a shiver at his closeness, for he brought the shadows with him.

  “Let me help them up.” He spoke to her, not the children. He lifted Daisy into the back, where two board seats had been carefully anchored, and then James.

  Such thoughtfulness. He took care with them. Joanna felt the wedge of gratitude take a bigger piece of her soul.

  “Your turn.” Aiden held out his hand, palm up. “I reckon you want to sit with your kids?”

  “Yes.” She felt like a lady at his kindness. She reached out to place her hand in his. Her fingertips grazed his palm, and it was like touching winter’s frozen ground. Sympathy filled her as he helped her up over the board side of the wagon. Her shoes thudded on the wooden box and her skirts swirled around her ankles, but she was only aware of Aiden’s lost heart.

  He released her hand without a word and turned his back, as if he were unaware of the moment. The lark song came again to her ears and the blinding glare of sunlight to her eyes, and yet still she felt cold as she settled with the children onto one of the seats.

  He’s without hope, she realized. She knew that place of darkness. It was like being in a blizzard, pummeled by the wind and battered by the ice-sharp snow, unable to see. Perhaps that was why her soul recognized his.

  Looking at him, you would not know it. Her gaze caressed the strong straight lines of his shoulders and back, the determined set of his hat and the purposeful way he held the reins. The wagon bounced and jostled through the grass, perhaps following a road that once had been there, to the main driveway, where wild rabbits darted out of sight and gophers popped up out of their holes to watch the travelers rolling by.

  Joanna thought she heard something in the whisper of the wind, like a voice just out of reach. The sunshine blazed, the seed-topped grasses stretched like a long ocean of green around them and the music of the birds filled the morning like the sweetest hymn. She knew, impossibly, that Aiden needed far more help than she did.

  Aiden halted the horses along the tree-shaded town street, hardly having the room in his thoughts to be glad for the handy parking spot because he felt the weight of so many eyes. He felt the curious looks as surely as he did the hot wind puffing at the back of his neck. This wasn’t the first time he’d been a source of speculation. He gritted his teeth, told himself he didn’t much care and set the brake.

  “Those are mighty good horses you got.”

  The little boy was standing right behind him, chest up, hands fisted. Aiden swallowed hard, forcing himself to answer. “Clyde and Dale are getting along in years, but right you are. They’re good horses.”

  “Clydesdales.” The little boy’s serious eyes lit up with excitement. “My pa used to have one once, but we had to sell him.”

  Little boys liked horses, Aiden told himself as he knotted up the reins. That was all it was. No need to look at the fatherless boy. No need to think the lad was needing something in return.

  “James, come.” Joanna laid her hand on her son’s shoulder, speaking in that soft way of hers. “Goodness, you’re as windblown as a tumbleweed. I can’t have you going into church like this.”

  Aiden swung down, not wanting to see the motherly way she dug a comb out of her reticule and smoothed down the boy’s hair. Nor did he want to see the snap of her skirts in the breeze, or the way she smiled as she worked, or the love on her face making her beautiful.

  He swiped his hand down Clyde’s neck, concentrating on the horses. Over the angled line of their manes he could see a buggy roll to a stop and the delight on his ma’s face as she hopped to the ground, hoopskirts swaying. Delight. That hit him deep. Yep, this was going just as he figured. His ma, wearing a grin twice as big as the Montana sky, was hurrying across the street.

  “Aiden!” Ida McKaslin had had a hard life, and the worry and a lifetime of troubles had etched deep into her face, but she was still lovely. Smiling, she raised her arms and pressed her hands to the sides of his face. “Look at you. I can’t get over how much I miss seeing you every day.”

  Aiden’s chest knotted up with failure, with emotion he could not let himself feel. “Ma, you look as if Thad and his wife are treating you well.”

  “They are spoiling me. That’s never good for a soul, but I am not about to complain. I’m settling into my new little house just fine.” His mother looked to be bursting with the next question. “Introduce me to your lady friend.”

  Yes, of course that’s what his sweet ma thought. No amount of explanation would talk her out of it, either. He might as well face the music. “Joanna has come upon hard times and she and her kids are staying in the shanty for a spell.”

  “I see.” Ma’s eyes lit up even brighter. Judging by the look of her, she didn’t understand at all.

  “Oh, no, Mrs. McKaslin.” Joanna came to his rescue. “I’m not his, well, his friend. It’s a business arrangement. I’m working in exchange for rent.”

  “Can’t be much rent he’s charging you. Or he’d best not be. You are being fair to her, aren’t you, Aiden?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes. Ma, does Thad know you ran off? He’s probably looking for you.”

  “Joanna.” Ma was hardly paying him any mind. She was setting her sights on Joanna. Probably measuring her up as future daughter-in-law material. “Your last name is Nelson, isn’t it? I’ve seen you around, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. Your father, rest his soul, was never on speaking terms with our family.”

  “I understand that half of Angel County
was not on speaking terms with my pa.” Joanna, with a child in each hand, smiled kindly toward the fragile older woman. “It’s mighty nice to meet you, ma’am. You have a fine son in Aiden. You must be very proud of him.”

  “I surely am not.” Her twinkling eyes said otherwise. “I am about to take him to task for not telling me all about you before this.”

  “I’m only here for a short time, then I’ll be moving along.” Joanna shot him a look as if to say, I’m trying to make her understand.

  “Don’t worry, Joanna. My ma is a hopeless case. She’s overly optimistic, and it’s my opinion that is not good for a person.” He gave his mother a severe look, but it apparently bounced right off of her.

  “Come, Joanna.” Ma reached right past him as if he didn’t exist. “Your little family must join ours. Aiden, I take it Finn will be along?”

  “That’s my understanding.” He watched, helpless to stop it, as his mother drew Joanna into a quick embrace, and fell in stride with her and her children. They were talking about the little ones. The boy smiled up at her. The girl skipped at Ma’s side.

  “She’s already wondering if one day they will be her grandchildren,” a voice quipped behind him.

  Aiden didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know his brother wore that irritating know-it-all grin. “You aren’t helping matters, Thad. You broke down and got married, and now Ma will think I’m likely to be next. Good day, Noelle.”

  “Hello, Aiden.” Thad’s pretty new bride clung to his arm, as lovely as could be. Her emerald eyes sparkled up at him with happiness, although she could not see him, as she was blind. “I’m eager to meet your new lady friend. I would like to invite her to join my sewing circle.”

  “I’m not courting her.” He had to make that clear. They were just a few paces ahead now. The wide brim of Joanna’s sunbonnet hid most of her face from him, but he could see the delicate angle of her jaw, and the corner of her mouth was drawn up in a smile.

  She was being kind to his mother. His chest muscles twinged and his knees felt a little watery. Maybe it was gratitude. He was even more grateful when the wind carried a snippet of Joanna’s voice. “No, ma’am, I am not sweet on your son.”

  “Well, you might not see it, dear, but I can.” Ma sounded pleased.

  Yes, he thought, it was just as he feared. “Ma, do go easy on Joanna. A pretty woman like her isn’t looking to get tied down with a dour old man like me.”

  “That’s exactly right.” Joanna’s tone was very serious.

  He couldn’t say why that gave him a pang, seeing as the last thing he wanted was a woman’s affections. He drew himself up, ignored the smarting of his pride—at least he wanted to believe it was his pride hurting him. Then she glanced over her shoulder at him, and her soft smile said more than words and simple assurances could.

  He wished he could thank her. He wished he knew how to express what was fighting to life within him. But they were hardly alone, and as they approached the front steps, even more people were around. Besides, if he reached out to her, it would take him one step closer to her, the last place he wanted to be.

  That didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful to her.

  At the bottom of the steps, Joanna turned to him. “I’m sorry, Aiden. I’m doing my best.”

  “Not to worry. I fear it’s a lost cause.”

  She smiled up at him, with both children in hand. For a moment, the sunlight framed her with gentle golden light, burnishing her blond hair and lighting her up, as if from within. Air caught in his lungs. Stunned, he could only stare at her, lost in her smile. In that instant, the pain of the hopelessness inside him eased.

  Joanna turned away and followed the line of churchgoers into the building. She swished forward with a twist of her skirts, her children quiet and wide-eyed at her side. Aiden’s feet felt rooted to the earth as he watched her disappear into the serene shadows of the church. She seemed to take the sunshine with her.

  Aiden was a genuine blessing in disguise. Joanna could see him at the end of the pew, on the other side of his sister-in-law, faithfully singing the closing hymn. He seemed like a hard man, standing so straight and severe, brooding with a keep-away look.

  But she saw a different man now. Because of him, she had a little more faith in humanity than she’d had a few days ago. That had made it easier to sit through the service and feel included in the minister’s sermon. God had felt so far away for so long. He still did. But she no longer felt alone.

  The hymn ended. The service was over. James took her hand solemnly, his gaze fastened not on her, but on the tall man at the end of the row.

  “Ma.” Daisy clung to her skirts. “I’m awful thirsty.”

  “Me, too, baby. We’ll get you some water before we start home.” She lifted her daughter into her arms and tugged Daisy’s little sunbonnet back into place. She needed to get a hat for James. She smoothed his hair absently as she inched down the row, where Aiden stood like a sentry, waiting for her.

  He was as severe as ever, but his eyes warmed when she came closer. “Ma has invited all of us to Sunday dinner. Including you. Will you come?”

  “I suppose so, seeing as how you have the horse and wagon.”

  “Then you’re at my mercy.”

  “Yes. That has not been a hardship.” She wasn’t certain, but thought he almost smiled. He waited for her to step into the aisle before he followed her. With every step she took, there he was, at her back. She could feel the faint flutter of his breath against her nape and his significant presence like a shadow.

  “Who is that woman with Aiden McKaslin?” A sharp whisper cut through the rustle and muttered conversations of the other worshippers heading for the exit.

  She heard nothing more, but her face heated. Had Aiden heard? She could not tell. His step didn’t falter. He remained silent, as if nothing had happened. She knew without asking him that the last time he’d brought a young woman with him to church, it had been his wife.

  “If he’s looking for a woman, he could do much better than her.” The whisper was louder this time, sharper.

  He had to have heard that. Joanna winced. Her face burned. She was glad that her children could not understand. She wanted to turn around and tell whoever was speaking the truth, but perhaps that would make a bigger scene. Already the line was moving on. She could only hope the rest of the McKaslin family, who were in front of her in the aisle, had not heard. She glanced down at her plain dress, patched discreetly in places, and at her son and daughter, who were good and sweet, and told herself it didn’t matter what others thought.

  Aiden’s hand settled on her shoulder and stayed there. What a comfort to have him behind her, his unspoken act unmistakable. She swallowed hard against the emotion balling up hot and thick in her throat.

  Yes, Aiden McKaslin was a fine man. Far too fine a man for a plain woman like her, but that didn’t stop her from admiring him. It was the sudden glare of the sun that had her blinking hard as she followed Ida down the steps and into the churchyard—nothing more.

  “I’ll get the children water,” Aiden said before he withdrew from her, leaving her alone.

  She had no time to thank him or to go with him. She glanced behind her to see a young woman in a lovely blue dress and fashionable hoops, with her hair done up in stylish ringlets, watching her through narrowed eyes. The whisperer, no doubt. Joanna lifted her chin. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She watched as the woman in blue sauntered past with a dismissive look.

  “I heard Aiden invite you to supper.” Ida turned to Joanna, after chatting with Noelle and Thad. “I’m so pleased you and your children will be joining us.”

  “It’s kind of you to have us.” She kept James at her side and Daisy on her hip, waiting for Aiden to return. The church crowd was thinning as people hurried home. She spotted him approaching holding a big dipper, which he handed to her.

  “Sorry, there was a line.” He said nothing more, but waited, staring off down the road, while the children each
took a turn sipping from the cold, fresh well water.

  “I’ll take it back. You go on ahead to the wagon. Get the kids out of the sun. I’ll be along in a few shakes. Don’t drive off without me.”

  “Maybe I will. Maybe not. You’ll just have to find out.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have heard her right. Perhaps it was the hustle of other folk around him in the churchyard or the noise of the road traffic. He saw amusement melting the strain on her pretty face. Was she joking with him? Well, he could kid, too. “Sure. Horse stealing is still a hanging offense in this part of the country. I’d be careful if I were you, ma’am.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried one bit. Your bark is worse than your bite, Aiden McKaslin. I might stop the wagon for you. I might not. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “How fast you can run after us.” She turned with a flick of her skirts.

  A chuckle rolled through him. Who would have thought the serious widow could make a man like him laugh? He shook his head, watching her walk away. There was something stunning about her, but he couldn’t put his thumb on it.

  The dress she wore was simply cut and sewn, without anything more than a modest ruffle at the hem, and none of the hoops and frills and lacy things females added to fancy up their dresses. Joanna was enough without all that. Her walk was a sensible, no-nonsense gait that was still feminine and dainty. With a child on her either side, she could not be mistaken for a captivating woman.

  Yet she drew him all the same. How about that? He spun on his heels and marched back to the well. Only a few people remained gathered in the yard, and he nodded a greeting to the minister, who was in a deep discussion with a man in a dark shirt and trousers. That was his new neighbor, Aiden realized as he dropped the dipper into the pail with a splash. He didn’t know them like he should, but he gave another nod as he went past the minister and Franklin—that was the man’s surname.

  Joanna. He couldn’t get over her quip, if it had been a quip. He might not know her well, but he had a suspicion she had been half-serious. He strained to look around the copse of cottonwoods and up the road. There she was, graceful and wholesome in her red calico, as she held a water bucket for Clyde. She made a pretty picture standing willow straight, chatting first with the horses and then with her kids, who sat safely inside the wagon.