Blessing in Disguise

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Why didn’t I bring a jug of water? What was the matter with my head?”

  You’d think we would have met at least one other traveler by now.

  “Oh-oh. Something’s up,” Kane said to Lone Pine as he looked at the figure on horseback flying across the field toward them.

  Morning Dove pulled her horse to a sliding stop in front of the two men. “She gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean ‘gone’?” Kane tipped the brim of his hat up so he could see her without getting a crick in his neck.

  “She went riding and not come back.”

  Kane glanced up at the sky, now more black than gray. “Go find the others,” he instructed Lone Pine. “Tell them to get back to the ranch as fast as they can.”

  Lone Pine nodded and swung aboard his horse. “You want them to bring in the cattle?”

  “No.” Kane grabbed the reins that had been ground-tying his horse. “What did she say?” he asked Morning Dove as he flipped one rein up from the other side, then gathered them both and stepped into his stirrup. He had his mount moving before he settled into the saddle.

  “She said good-bye.” Morning Dove reined her horse around and kept pace with Kane.

  “Not see you later, or—”

  Morning Dove shook her head. “Good-bye—in English. She been practicing her English all the time.”

  “I know.” Fool woman, where could she have gone? Surely she knew better than to go beyond the ranch. After all, that’s where they had ridden together and then she by herself. He’d shown her the boundaries. Not that anyone else would mind her riding on their land.

  He felt a few drops on his hands and in his face. That’s all they needed. Rain to wash away her tracks.

  “Did she take anything along?”

  “Bread and meat.”

  That in itself wasn’t unusual. Unless, of course, they had already eaten dinner. But when he asked Morning Dove, she shook her head. So maybe she’d planned on a picnic. He pulled his hat lower to keep the rising wind from snatching it away.

  Wonderful weather for anyone to be lost.

  By the time they loped into the ranch, he’d called himself every name in the book and made up a few new ones. He’d found himself being real creative with names for his wife too. Perhaps she’d returned.

  But when they got to the corral, he knew that was a vain hope. The filly wasn’t in the corral, the barn, or out to pasture. While he waited for the others, he gathered up lanterns and filled them with kerosene, had Morning Dove fix food both for a fast supper and a meal on the trail, and tied a tarp around his blanket roll. By the time the men got there, he’d about worn a groove in the floor in front of the fireplace.

  He took one man besides Lone Pine. While the wind pummeled them like a boxer attacking his foe, the rain held off, sending drops once in a while to keep them from getting too complacent.

  At least there hadn’t been a lot of traffic on the road, none in fact but a lone horse with what he hoped was a lonely rider. The question he couldn’t answer was why? Had she been so unhappy that she had to run away?

  But deep in his heart he thought he knew. She’d asked him to take her to Blessing, and he’d refused.

  When they came to the fork, he held the lantern out so they could see better.

  Lone Pine pointed to the left. “She go that way.”

  Kane shook his head. “Now, why would she do that? If she’s going to Ipswich, it’s that way.” He nodded to the right arm of the Y.

  “She lost for sure.”

  Kane shivered. The wind seemed to be trying to divest them of whatever protection they had. Dear Lord, please take care of this headstrong woman you have given me. Please forgive me for not trying harder to understand what she wanted—not that I would have let her go anyway. But I could have taken her where she wanted to go. He pulled his hat down farther to keep the wind from ripping it off.

  Was she even wearing a hat—a real hat?

  Augusta untied the latigos and carefully unwrapped her bundle. While she’d eaten part of her food earlier, now she wanted the blanket more than bread. Even more than the blanket, she wanted water.

  Seeing some trees to the left, she turned her horse off the narrowing road, hoping and praying there would be a creek or spring. The last time she’d tried, the swamp water was so muddy she didn’t dare drink from it. The horse, however, had no such compunctions and drank her fill. At least one of them was comfortable.

  A tiny spring seeped into the ground about as fast as it trickled out between the two rocks. Augusta knelt on a rock beside it and cupped one hand beneath the trickle. With her other she clutched the reins. If her horse bolted now . . . She didn’t even dare contemplate the thought. Slurp by slurp she slaked her thirst. When she finally creaked to her feet again—she wasn’t sure which part of her anatomy hurt the worst—she leaned against the filly’s shoulder for warmth. The horse dropped her head and began grazing on the clumps of grass watered by the spring.

  Augusta wished she could do likewise. There was no sense in going farther this night, and the little glade offered some protection from the elements. She hadn’t seen sign of any ranches or farms for hours, but then she hadn’t explored down the long lanes that led off from the main road.

  If only she’d gone right at the Y. If only she hadn’t started out on such a foolhardy venture in the first place. She shivered and clutched the blanket closer. Surely she would find someone to point her in the right direction in the morning.

  The wind roared around the hillside and snatched at her blanket.

  “Father in heaven, if I’ve ever needed your protection, I surely do need it now.” She thought about her words. As if He hadn’t always been protecting her. But right now the warmth of His mighty hand would feel awful good.

  She sat down with her back to a tree trunk and switched hands every now and then because the hand holding the reins turned blue rather quickly. “Do I let the horse graze, which means I leave this bit of comfort from the tree, or do I make her suffer too?” The wind lashing the tree branches made hearing herself difficult even though she had the blanket over her face.

  “Why didn’t I think to bring a rope?” She shook her head. “Because I am one of the most hardheaded, stubborn, opinionated women I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” A picture of Kane reading to her in front of a roaring fireplace came to mind.

  “Uff da!” Right now stronger words were more appropriate, but even so, she couldn’t say them. “Uff da” did say it all.

  A gust of rain rattled the bare branches overhead. Most likely it would start to pour soon, and then where would she be? “Right here, only soaking wet.” She clutched the blanket closer to her throat to block an errant draft. “Father, how do you put up with me?” The horse pulled against the reins, asking for more slack.

  “Just like me, huh? Always asking for more slack so I can go my own way? And you let me. And then I have to beg you to deliver me from the cold and the wind and the rain.”

  And I do, a quiet voice said.

  “I know that, or I’d be so terrified right now. I’d . . . I’d . . .” She sighed. “This is going to be a long night.” She rested her forehead on her knees.

  She must have dozed, because she jerked when the horse pulled on the reins again. She moved over to another tree, which afforded the filly more grazing, and Augusta settled herself again in her warm cocoon. “Thank you for holding back the rain.” She thought of other things to be thankful for and began listing them. Kane appeared at the top of the list. He had been good to her. But married?

  She rested her cheek on her knees again. What would it be like to be really married to him?

  “All right, Augusta Bjorklund, get back to finding things to be grateful for.” Her list continued. She jerked again at the intrusion of her horse. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be on foot come morning. If morning ever came again. She knotted the reins together at the very end and slipped her hand through the loop. Now if she fell aslee
p, the horse would wake her up.

  Head down, she dozed under the blanket.

  “Augusta! Augusta!” It was her father, Gustaf, calling. Ah, the dream was so real. “I’ve missed you so, Far.” She could feel tears burn at the back of her eyes. And here she’d brought more pain to her mother. “Ah, me.”

  “Augusta!”

  The filly whinnied, jerking Augusta totally awake. When an answering whinny came from the direction of the road, Augusta leaped to her feet.

  “Over here.” Could they hear her over the wind? She screamed at the top of her voice. “Here!”

  A radiance, a lamp lit against the darkness, preceded them as Kane and Lone Pine rode into her sanctuary.

  Kane hit the ground running. He flung his arms around her and gathered her into the warmth of his chest. “You foolish, foolish girl. Whatever came over you?” His voice took turns at harsh and hugging. “Are you all right?”

  Augusta burrowed into his warmth. Like God above, he had come for her, not leaving her to suffer her own stupidity, not waiting for her to come back, penitent and broken.

  Kane had come for her.

  While Kane alternately cussed and cuddled her, Lone Pine built a fire.

  Augusta raised a tearstained face to seek answers in Kane’s eyes. In the feeble light from the lantern and the barely flickering fire, his eyes were shadowed, his brows a straight line. She could see the slashes that had deepened in his cheeks. The bare light made them more so.

  “I-I’m sorry.” If only she knew the words in English. Would he understand?

  “Augusta Moyer, you gave me the fright of my life.” He gave her a bit of a shake for emphasis. “Whatever possessed you to—” He stopped at the look of bewilderment he saw before him and gathered her back to his chest instead. What couldn’t be said with words could surely be shown with arms.

  Augusta looked over his shoulder to see the moon, like a promise, peeking from the thinning bank of clouds. She sighed. Now how would she get to Blessing? Or send her mother a letter?

  Once they’d had some food and hot coffee, Lone Pine put the fire out, and they mounted their horses again. But when he led the way past the spring and not back on the road, Augusta shook her head.

  “No, we go that way. I know I’m not that confused.”

  “Ranch this way.” Lone Pine indicated the swale between two hills.

  Kane reached across between the horses and touched her arm. He pointed in the same direction as Lone Pine had. “Ranch this way.”

  She shrugged and shook her head again. She knew what they meant and surely they knew the land better than she, but still she was confused.

  After riding for what seemed half the night, though she knew it had been only an hour or two, they trotted into the ranch yard. Morning Dove came to the door with a lantern and a spate of words that Augusta had no intention of trying to figure out. By taking the left hand of the fork, she must have ridden in almost a full circle. Grateful on one hand that they’d found her and disgusted with herself on the other, she dismounted, ignoring Kane’s offer of assistance.

  But when her knees turned to jelly, she gratefully slumped against his arms. Instead of letting her go when her legs got their strength again, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the house. After laying her on the bed, he gave her a stern look.

  “Now, stay there.” He added “please” as an afterthought. When she nodded, he smiled down at her. “I will take you to Blessing if you absolutely must go.”

  She understood “I will take you to Blessing” and the rest didn’t much matter.

  “Mange takk—er—thank you.”

  She should be overjoyed. Instead she felt a terrible sense of letdown. Maybe by now he didn’t want her to stay. She’d been far too much bother, and now he was willing to be rid of her. She forced a smile to lips that quivered. “Th-thank you.”

  “You sleep now, and we’ll talk in the morning.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek before leaving the room.

  Augusta put her hand to her face. Perhaps he did care. She undressed, slid her nightdress over her head, and was asleep before she could blow out the candle.

  She slept through the rooster crowing. She slept through the dog barking. But the sound of her brother’s voice jerked her straight up in bed. Her feet hit the floor before her mind jolted into motion.

  “Hjelmer! What is Hjelmer doing here? Surely there can be no other that sounds precisely like him. Maybe I was dreaming.” All the time she muttered she was washing, dressing, and combing her hair. When a knock came on her door, she was just twisting her hair into a knot to pin at the base of her head.

  “Augusta, are you all right?” How sweet the Norwegian sounded to her ears, her very own dear brother’s voice.

  “Ja, I am fine.”

  “Are you decent?”

  “Ja, I am dressed. Give me a moment. How did you find me?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you on the way to Ipswich.”

  She flinched from stabbing her tender scalp with a hairpin. “Ipswich? But I . . .” He doesn’t want me after all. Kane doesn’t want me. She choked back a sob. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

  Chapter 32

  The Ranch

  October 5

  “But I am already married.” Kane looked from Hjelmer to the woman beside him.

  “Are you sure?” Hjelmer wore an expression of utter consternation.

  Kane felt like walking out of the room. If these people had not been his guests, he would have. “If you mean, did we have a ceremony— yes. The justice of the peace married us in Ipswich when Augusta got off the train. I believed she was”—he nodded toward the woman standing slightly behind Hjelmer—“Miss Borsland, who had agreed to be my bride. I would not travel so far with an unmarried woman. It would not be proper.” The slight curl of his lip said what he thought of Hjelmer for doing exactly that. He heard the crinkle of the letters being smashed by Hjelmer’s hands as if they were alive. What a shock to find two people on his front porch with the two letters in hand— one offering to buy some horses, the other . . . well, the other was what they were discussing.

  For moments the toe of his boot took all of Kane’s concentration. “And if you mean, has the marriage been . . . been . . .” He could feel his ears growing hot, knowing that their redness must signal his uncomfortable state. “I will just say that we did not share a room.” Nor a bed, and now it might be too late. He refused to let himself think of that first night home when he’d awakened to find a screaming harridan on his hands. The thought still made him smile. Augusta in full battle mode was something to see.

  Miss Borsland made a strangled sound and rolled her eyes.

  Kane caught the motion and then glanced up to see Augusta standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. The questioning look on her face made him want to rush to her side.

  Hjelmer saw her at about the same time. He crossed the room and took both her hands in his. “Ah, Gussie, I am so—” He stopped at her slight withdrawal. “All right, Augusta, sorry. I forgot. It is so long since I’ve seen you that I was beginning to doubt I ever would.” He tucked her hand under his arm and brought her into the room. “What a mix-up this is. Here I’ve been over half of Minnesota and now South Dakota to find you. Mor never gave up hope that you were still alive.”

  “I . . . I feel so foolish. I just didn’t understand the man at the station in St. Paul, and then when I got off the train, I thought . . .” She paused and sent a beseeching look to Kane, but he didn’t meet her gaze. “I thought Kane was saying he would take me to Blessing.”

  “But why did you marry him?” Hjelmer’s voice rose a bit as she shook her head.

  “I thought it was for my American citizenship, that we were signing my citizenship papers.”

  Hjelmer groaned and tapped the heel of his hand on his forehead. “Augusta Bjorklund, I never . . .” He shook his head again. “Well, all that matters is that you are safe, and within the
next two days you will finally arrive in Blessing.”

  “But what about me?” Asta sat forward on the chair she’d taken waiting for Augusta to join them.

  “Excuse me.” Hjelmer nodded to her. “Augusta, this is Asta Borsland, the real mail-order bride destined to union with Mr. Moyer here.”

  “But I am already married.” Kane enunciated clearly, having understood the gist of what was being said. He could feel his jaw tightening. Who had given this unwanted visitor the right to take over like this? He stared at Augusta, willing her to look at him.

  Hjelmer interpreted Kane’s words for Miss Borsland.

  “I’m aware of that.” Miss Borsland sheathed her words in hoarfrost. “As you can tell by my letter, I was unavoidably detained.”

  Hjelmer continued to interpret the words back and forth.

  “But I didn’t receive the letter.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir, but what are we to do about this confusion now? We had an agreement, as you well know.” Asta locked her hands firmly in her lap.

  All I care about is Augusta. You can go wherever you want. It makes no nevermind to me.

  “Coffee is ready.” Morning Dove appeared in the doorway and gestured toward the table.

  “Thank you.” Kane turned back to his guests. “Please excuse my poor manners.” If his words sounded as stilted as he felt, they must realize they were welcome about as much as a horde of locusts before harvest.

  Conversation not only didn’t come alive, but what was contributed lay on the table like a dying fish no longer even flopping about.

  When Morning Dove offered to refill cups, she was met with headshakes all around.

  Augusta couldn’t finish her first cup. It had pooled like pond sludge in the bottom of her stomach. So what do I do now? On one hand, I’m married. On the other hand, it’s not been much of a marriage, not a real one at all. And the way Kane is about to break his coffee cup by glaring at it, I doubt there is much hope there.