by Jillian Hart
She didn’t see it as much as felt it, the way Aiden seemed to swell up even taller, like a bear ready to fight.
“Stay here,” he told her, already stalking toward the mercantile door. “I’ll be right back.”
“No, it’s not—” worth it. She didn’t have time to finish, for he’d already jerked open the door and disappeared inside. There he went, a big bear of a man, hunting down Mrs. Lawson.
“Is he getting my candy?” Daisy asked.
“I don’t know.” The last thing Joanna wanted was a scene. It was only going to make people like Mrs. Lawson think whatever they knew about her was right. That would only affect her children more. All she wanted was to go home. She would fix dinner—Aiden had enough on his pantry shelves for her to make supper—and she would come back and try again tomorrow. Maybe Ida could watch the children again.
“Come.” She took James by the hand. “Let’s get into the wagon.”
A man came out of the barbershop, gave her a friendly look that lasted a bit too long and wasn’t nice at all.
She cringed. The shame inside her doubled, and she jerked her gaze to her feet, studying the tips of her shoes as he sauntered past. She had never in her life wanted to disappear more than at this moment.
She helped James climb onto the high wagon seat, and hefted Daisy up after him.
“Hey, Ma.” James settled onto the edge of the seat. “Mr. McKaslin looks awful mad.”
He did. She could see him clearly through the glass. She had never seen a man look more intimidating or more controlled. He towered over the counter, tensed as if for a fight, but there was no threatening gesturing or temper. That was a surprise, since that was her experience with angry men. Aiden was merely speaking with Mrs. Lawson with a quiet firmness. Mr. Lawson came out of the back of the store to the counter and joined the discussion.
Aiden was going to make this right. Wonderful Aiden. He was standing up for her. No man had ever done that before. Places in her heart warmed—places she didn’t know she had. The sunshine seemed brighter and the air more sweet. The backs of her eyes smarted as she watched Mrs. Lawson pull items from the shelves. Mr. Lawson went to the candy case and put several pieces into a brown paper bag.
“He got some lemon ones,” James announced.
“How about the striped ones?” Daisy asked.
“Yep.”
Aiden strode out of the store with a big brown package in his arms—the wrapped groceries. Mr. Lawson followed with two bigger sacks.
“Ma’am.” He nodded cordially as he passed, and set the flour and beans into the wagon bed.
Joanna couldn’t speak, so she bobbed her head, her pulse pounding nervously as he went back to his store. There had been no more judgmental looks. Nothing uncomfortable.
“I got things set right,” Aiden told her as he put the package in the wagon bed. He held out the sack of candy. “For your little ones.”
Joanna heard two excited gasps behind her on the seat. She took the bag. Her heart began to melt just a little. Maybe it was the way the sunlight graced his broad shoulders and the brim of his hat, but he seemed bigger to her. In her eyes, there was no one better. Caring swelled through her in the sweetest way.
“Thank you.” Again, the words were far too small for the great kindness he had done for her and for her children.
“It was no trouble at all. You go on and climb up.” He took her elbow to help her.
Her heart took another slide. It was no longer gratitude she felt, no longer simple respect. Her feelings for him had multiplied, taking on depth and layers. She let him boost her up, and she settled into the seat. Silence filled her as she waited while he untied the horses and handed her the reins. She cared for him very much.
Too much. She took the reins from his gloved hands, avoiding his gaze. There was too much swirling around inside her that she didn’t want him to see. Too many emotions she was afraid to examine closely.
“I’ll see you at home?” he asked, but the question in his eyes asked more.
That was a question she could not yet answer. Look how this afternoon had turned out, and what folks already thought. She might not care, as long as it didn’t harm her children, but those opinions also painted Aiden in a poor light. How could she allow such a thing? As long as she was in his life like this, those rumors were not going to stop. Simply accepting his proposal might not make them stop entirely. Maybe it would be best for Aiden if she packed up the kids and rode out of his life.
“I’ll be right behind you,” she told him, instead of the yes he was waiting for. “You go on ahead.”
“All right.” He winced a little, as if disappointed.
She hated that. Guilt crept into her. She straightened the reins and released the brake, waiting as Aiden ambled to his horse and mounted up. His movements were sure and controlled. Maybe it was the shadows making him look so weary. Maybe it was her imagination, what she wished she would see.
The truth was, she was troubled by these rumors. She didn’t want to leave; she felt she needed to stay. Because if she did, then she could do everything possible to make his hard life easier. She wanted to repay his kindness. She longed to have her children know security and stability and the care of a strong man who would not let them down.
“Ma?”
“Yes, James?” Then she realized she was still clutching the bag of candy. How on earth had she forgotten? She transferred the right rein to her left hand and held the sack out. “One apiece so you don’t ruin your supper.”
After James had chosen a lemon drop and Daisy a striped peppermint ball, Joanna tucked the sack into her skirt pocket. She gave the reins a firm snap. The horse plodded forward and the wagon wheels creaked. There was one more truth rising up from her heart, a truth she could no longer ignore.
She was a little sweet on Aiden. It was hard not to be.
Storm clouds had turned the northeastern sky coal-black and sent a cool wind skittering through the fields.
Aiden pulled up the horses, let the welcome breeze blow against him, and gave thanks for it. That felt good, for he was blistering hot. He’d been pressing hard since he’d gotten back from town, mostly because he had twice the work to do now that Finn was no longer here to pitch in. But the truth was, as long as he was working hard, he didn’t have to think about what had happened in town today. He didn’t want to speculate about how those rumors got started in the first place. He feared that Finn had been drinking and talking up a good story at one of the saloons. Aiden shook his head, remembering the hurt look on Joanna’s face.
Yep, just thinking about it got his guts knotted up and put his chest in a tangle. Too many emotions blew through him and he fought them down. He didn’t like feeling this much. He dragged in a long breath, took off his hat to let the breeze cool his head. Joanna and her kids were coming his way, bringing his supper.
The family was a pretty sight. The little girl was skipping ahead to collect wildflowers. The boy trailed after Joanna, carrying the big water jug. It looked to be pretty heavy for a kid that size, but his jaw was set with determination. In that way the boy was a lot like his ma.
Then Aiden looked at her. At Joanna. With her sunbonnet down and her braids uncoiled from her proper topknot, she was a sight to behold. The wind danced through loose wisps of blond hair that had escaped, and she could have been a ray of sunshine come down to earth for all her innocent beauty.
It wasn’t a puzzle to figure out why she might not want to tie herself to a man like him. He felt like the dark side of sunset as she lifted a hand from the basket handle and waved in greeting.
His hand was up and waving in return before he thought about it. There was that tangle in his chest again, the one he’d do best to ignore. He left the horses to rest and headed toward the creek. By the time he had washed most of the grime off his face and neck, Joanna was there, handing him a small towel from inside the basket.
“I brought pie for dessert, just as you asked.” She hardly looked
at him.
“Did you now?” He dried his face with the soft cloth, feeling her distance and his. “I’m real partial to apple pie, too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. I noticed the apples in the orchard are starting to ripen.”
“I’d be mighty obliged.” He folded the towel. “What else do you have in that hamper?”
“Sit down and find out.” She shook out a blanket and let it settle on the creek bank, keeping her back to him as she smoothed away the wrinkles.
Yessir, he reckoned he had her answer to his proposal. He’d seen it in her hurt eyes in town as she sat on that wagon seat, holding the bag of candy out to her children. Being associated with him had brought harm to her reputation. There was no way she was going to accept him now. Why that hurt like a blow, he couldn’t rightly say. He only knew his life was better with her near.
It was her cooking. At least that was the simplest explanation and the only one he would allow himself to think about. He knelt on one corner of the blanket, his mouth watering at the scents coming from the tin containers Joanna was opening. Buttered carrots; must be the first from the garden, since they were so small. Butter melting off the tops of fluffy buttermilk biscuits.
He couldn’t believe all that she had done. “Is that chicken and dumplings?”
“Your ma made a point of telling me all your favorites.” She placed the largest container in front of him, full to the brim. Joanna didn’t look up or acknowledge him as she kept working, setting out the delicious food. “Ida wasn’t even ashamed of herself, as if my cooking would be enough to, well, you know.”
“Hook me?”
She hung her head. “I made something I knew you would like, because of what you did for us today in town. To thank you.”
“I understand.” He wanted her to be clear on that. He didn’t want her to think he believed any part of such nonsense. “You won’t have any more problems at the mercantile. I’ve made sure of that.”
“I know.” She turned pink, as if she was still ashamed.
“It’s a hard thing having folks think the worst of you, I know.” He paused when the little boy made his way up to the blanket, sweat dampening his flyaway hair.
“Here.” Joanna’s son set the jug on the ground. “I reckon you gotta be mighty thirsty.”
“I reckon so.” Aiden couldn’t look at the boy. He wanted to; he just couldn’t. “Thank you kindly.”
“Here.” Now that his hands were free, the kid reached into his trouser pocket and held out something on the flat of his palm. It winked in the sun.
A copper penny. “What’s that for?”
“For the candy.” Such a solemn little boy. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome, but you keep the penny.”
“Nah.” The kid shook his head. “Ma always says you gotta pay for what you get or it’s the same as stealing.”
What does a man say to that? “You have a wise ma. Then will you give your penny to your ma for me?”
“Yes, sir.” The boy ambled off to hand over the bit of copper to his mother.
Nice boy. Aiden had to glance away. Joanna’s daughter was at the creek’s edge, reaching out to dip her fingers into the clear, shallow water. It was easy to see that Joanna had an eye on her as she took out a napkin, a fork and the final tin—no doubt holding the fresh piece of pie.
“Looks like a storm is blowing in.” She handed him the knife and fork rolled up in a napkin.
It was hard facing her. Resolutely, Aiden steeled his spine. Last night the darkness had been a safe haven, but in the unforgiving light of this day, she had been able to get a real close look at him. At this man who had offered marriage to her—not a real union, true, but a marriage nonetheless. Last night he had been fairly hopeful, but he knew now that she was going to reject him. After what happened at Lawson’s store, she was going to pack up her things and leave him.
He unrolled the silverware, hoping she couldn’t see—that she would never guess—how lonesome he was going to feel without her.
“I think just north of here is likely to get a hard blow. Maybe some hail,” he said practically. He was, after all, a deeply practical man. “My hay should be safe for tonight.”
“And your wheat, too. You have a fair-size crop.”
“Enough that it’ll be a tussle getting it harvested in a day.” He stared off at the horizon and thought about that storm gathering strength. About the lightning ready to strike. “Finn could have helped with that, but it’s no matter. I’ve got neighbors, and Thad will come help me.”
“You have a good brother in him.”
“That I do.” Thad was good to the core. Dependable. Aiden was blessed to have a brother like him, and he knew it. “I don’t suppose he dropped by word about Finn?”
“No, I would have told you.”
“Yeah, I knew that. I had to ask.”
She nodded with understanding, rising lightly to her feet. “Where did you put the pitchfork?”
“Uh, over against the corner post. Why? What do you need me to do?” He was already rising, but she waved him back.
“No, you stay and eat. You can help me by keeping an eye on the children.” She was already walking away, a pretty willow of a woman in a patched, pink calico dress. “You can join me when you’re done.”
“Done, what?” She was the most puzzling woman. “Joanna, what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to start turning the hay.”
“Whoa, there.” Why should she do such a thing? What had given her such a notion? He got to his feet. “The work is too hard for you. Besides, I don’t take to a woman helping me in the fields.”
“Too bad. You will have to get used to it, as these will also be my fields very soon.” She tossed him a small smile as lovely as the wildflowers nodding in the wind. “I’ve decided to marry you.”
Chapter Eleven
“Are they asleep?” Hours later, Aiden’s voice floated out of the darkness.
“Finally.” Joanna left the shanty door open to the breeze and padded barefoot in his direction. Her muscles ached from the difficult work of turning the mown hay over so it could dry for stacking. She didn’t mind hard labor and she hadn’t minded the company, either.
Grasses tapped against her skirt hem as she made her way through the night shadows. “You were right. The storm is staying north of us.”
“Good thing, or we’d be getting wet about now. It’s a pretty sight from here, though.”
“Yes.” She followed the sound of his voice.
There he was, hunkered on the porch step, as still as the shadows. She eased down beside him. The thick clouds blotted out the sky and glowed with the sparks of lightning. Like black opals, they shone with a dark incandescence.
“I love watching storms,” she confessed, “as long as they are a goodly distance away.”
“Me, too. The lightning has just started.” He nodded toward the far north, where a jagged trail of blue-white light snaked and crackled across the angry clouds. “Have you always like watching storms, or is it a recent inclination?”
“It goes as far back as I can remember. When I was a little girl, my ma would wake me and we would go watch the lightning together.”
“Kind of like this?”
“Exactly like this.” Her voice softened at the memory. Her ma had been a good woman, loving, hardworking and endlessly kind. “When I was James’s age I would rush from one window to another trying to see the next lightning strike through the downpour streaking the glass.”
“I would head out to the barn.”
“I can’t imagine your ma letting her little boy outside in a lightning storm.”
“I wasn’t so small, I guess. Twelve or so, and older. I still do it. I climb up and sit in the haymow. I can see the whole of Angel Valley from up there.”
“And a lot of lightning.”
“A few twisters,” he added. The wind gusted through the grass like an ocean wave. He waited while another st
reak of light crackled through the clouds in one long bolt. That was quite a sight. And judging by Joanna’s rapt attention, she thought so, too.
His eyes had adjusted to the dark so he could see her against the glow of the clouds. She had a sweet profile with a cute slope of a nose and a daintily cut mouth and chin. The tangle of her golden hair curled over her forehead and framed her face. He remembered how hard she had worked in the field beside him, tirelessly and without one complaint. She had kept one eye on her children while she flipped shank after shank of cut hay, and expertly, too.
“You helped me more in one evening than Finn ever has.” It had taken a chunk of his pride to allow her to work. No, he wasn’t one of those men who believed a woman had her place, but he didn’t think a woman ought to work that hard.
As a boy, he had watched how hard his ma had worked in the fields when Pa had been passed out. She had ruined her health, working herself to the bone. He had helped all he could and that made a difference as he had gotten older. He thanked the Lord he was built for hard labor. By the time he was twelve, he was doing a man’s work in the fields so his ma didn’t have to.
It had been difficult to keep quiet this evening, but he’d done it. Joanna had agreed to marry him. And he hadn’t wanted to give her a reason to change her mind.
“Then your offer still stands?”
“You know it does.” He smiled some. She was humble, and it was endearing. “After that supper and dessert, no man in his right mind would turn you down.”
“At least I have something to offer you in our arrangement. It feels one-sided to me.”
“It’s not, believe me. But your cooking is not why I proposed.” He paused, gathering up his courage. It was hard for him to talk about the things that mattered. “I hope you know I don’t look at you and see all the work you could do around here.”
“Yes, I know that, or I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you.” She sounded young, suddenly, and vulnerable.
He bowed his head. It wasn’t that she was so very young; it was that hardship had worn on him. His existence, numb as the frozen ground at winter, had aged him more than he liked to admit. Hopelessness could do that to a man.