Reluctant Bride (Dakota Brides Book 4)

by Linda Ford

  “Agnes, stop worrying. Everything is going to be all right. You have a safe home here. I’ll do the farm work. We’ll care for the girls. We’ll do what is right. No one can fault us for that.” He continued to murmur encouragement.

  Her teeth stopped chattering. She quit shivering. Her eyes, dark and stormy, clung to his gaze. Finally, she nodded. “We will do what is right for the girls.”

  “Good.” He waited for the kettle to boil, made a pot of tea, and took a cupful to her.

  She drank half the cup then said, “I’m fine now. I need to look after the girls.”

  He had to leave. They both had to live lives that gave people no reason to judge . Yet he hated to leave her so soon after her shock.

  “If you need me, give a holler.” He paused at the door.

  Her color had returned. Her mouth set in a determined line, she looked his way. “Don’t worry about me. I know how to survive.”

  Likely she meant the words as assurance. They were anything but. Survival was not enough. He’d learned that over the last two months. One had to have dreams.

  His dream had widened to contain not only his farm, but protecting Agnes and the girls.

  Nels rose Monday morning eager to get at the plowing. First, he had to feed the cows in the pasture. They’d about eaten all the grass in the enclosed space. He’d have to turn them out tomorrow. Surely by now they knew this was their new home where they could expect food and water.

  Lila and Hettie called him for breakfast and he hurried into the house. A tension he had been unaware of slipped away when Agnes smiled, her dark blue eyes clear and untroubled.

  Lila pulled on his arm. “Aunt Agnes says we can look after the chickens if it’s okay with you.”

  Agnes nodded. “I’d like the girls to learn to do a few chores.”

  “By all means.” It gave him more time to plow. “I’ll be breaking the spot I showed you yesterday.”

  The blue of her eyes darkened to midnight. Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded her of yesterday. He smiled. “Life goes on. It can be as full and happy as we choose.” He took his place at the table. “My grandfar had a saying. ‘You have to get past the thorns to enjoy the roses.’”

  Lila sat at her place. “What does that mean?”

  Nels smiled at both girls then looked at Agnes as he answered. “He meant we can let the thorns keep us from enjoying the roses just as we can let the not-nice parts of life keep us from enjoying the good parts. Or we can choose to enjoy the good parts anyway.”

  Agnes smiled. “I like that. I think your grandfather must be a very wise man.”

  Nels chuckled. “He also said that people are too soon old and too late smart.”

  When Agnes laughed,Nels felt he’d found one of those roses.

  When they finished breakfast, Hettie brought the Bible to him. The girls had decided to take turns fetching it from the shelf.

  He opened it with the care and reverence it deserved both as God’s Word and as having belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Long. The edges of the pages were worn, proving how often it had been in the hands of the girls’ parents.

  Nels waited, considering what he wanted to read. Was there a verse that would encourage both Agnes and him as they tried to live in such a way others couldn’t criticize? Grandfar would have known one. And thinking of his grandfar provided the answer. “I’m going to read from Proverbs, chapter three. One of Grandfar’s favorite passages. ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’” He looked down the table into Agnes’s gaze. “We will trust Him, ja?”

  She nodded. “What a lovely rose for the day.”

  Lila looked from Nels to Agnes. “I don’t see any rose.”

  Nels explained. “What your aunt Agnes is saying is, believing and trusting God is like finding a rose among the thorns of worry and fear.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Hettie had grown thoughtful. “What color is the rose?”

  Nels and Agnes shared a secret smile.

  “What color do you want it to be?” Agnes asked.

  “I like pink.”

  “Then it’s a pink rose.”

  On that happy thought, Nels left the house and hitched the draft horses—Pat and Clyde—to the plow and guided them to the spot he wanted to break. It seemed the pair was anxious to be working as they leaned into the task. A deep furrow turned over behind them, the smell of the rich soil filling his nostrils. Would Hettie think the scent as nice as a pink rose? He chuckled at the idea.

  The sun beat down on the land, the sky unbroken by a cloud. Unseasonably warm for this late in the fall. But Nels knew it could change without warning. All the more reason to get the plowing done as soon as possible.

  He worked throughout the morning. From the field, he had a good view of the house. Agnes set up washtubs outside. Soon clean laundry billowed in the breeze. A perfect day for washing clothes. At her request, he’d taken her his dirty garments. He’d thought of refusing. “You don’t think people will wonder if they see you washing my clothes?”

  “You think they will be shocked to know you get dirty?”

  He had laughed. “I don’t think that will surprise anyone. After all, I’m farming, taking care of livestock.”

  “Then your clothes need to be washed. It’s as simple as that.”

  He had to agree, and seeing his shirts drying on the line along with the tiny dresses and nightgowns of three little girls gave him a sense of unity. He had already promised to do everything in his power to protect Agnes and the girls—out of concern. Now the feeling went deeper though he wasn’t about to try and explain what it meant.

  By noon, Agnes had taken the clothes off the line and into the house. Dried already in the hot Dakota sunshine.

  Both he and the horses needed a break. He took them to the barn to get theirs along with feed and water. He ran water from the pump over his head to cool himself and shook the moisture off.

  “I brung a towel,” Lila called, running from the house, Hettie on her heels.

  He glanced toward the window. Agnes watched, which, for some reason, made it impossible for him to look away.

  “Here it is.” Lila waited for him to take it.

  He pulled his attention to the child. “Thanks, little darlings.” He patted both of them on the head. Both beamed.

  The three of them walked side by side to the house. Inside, he felt like he had stepped into an oven. The baby fussed. Agnes wiped her face with her apron.

  “It’s hot,” she said apologetically.

  “And going to get worse before the day is through. Can you let the stove cool off?”

  “It would mean a cold supper.”

  “That’s fine with me.” They gathered round the table.

  Agnes put Merry in the cradle but the baby cried. Picking her up didn’t help.

  “Let me take her.”

  The fact that Agnes didn’t object made Nels think the baby had been fussing a long time. “Is she hungry?”

  “No, she’s had lots to eat. Any more and she’ll get a tummy ache.”

  “Poor little darling is hot too.” He removed every stitch of clothing but her diaper and laid her on a blanket near the door where a breeze wafted through. He patted her back and sang softly until she settled.

  “Aunt Agnes tried to get her to stop crying,” Lila said.

  Hettie covered her ears. “She cried lots.”

  “And you settle her in a few minutes.” Agnes lifted her hands.

  He laughed. “I expect she was wore out and ready to settle. I just happened to show up at the right time.”

  “Nice of you to say so.” Her grin informed him that she wasn’t offended.

  They gathered round the table. The girls ate poorly, the heat taking their appetite. Agnes picked at her food and sighed.

  “Seems I’m the only one who is hungry.”

  Hettie’s bottom lip trembled. “I’m too ho
t.”

  “We all are,” Agnes said, her voice thin.

  “Eat what you can and then I’ll do something to help you like the heat a bit more.”

  Two little girls perked up and Agnes smiled. “That will be nice.”

  The girls ate a little, as did Agnes.

  Nels cleaned his plate and pushed it aside. “I’ll prepare my surprise while you ladies do the dishes.”

  Lila and Hettie giggled at being called ladies.

  Agnes watched him as he left the house.

  He grabbed the washtub she had used earlier, carried it to the pump, and put in about eight inches of water. He took the tub back to the shade of the house and went inside. “Is there water in the kettle?”

  “It’s full.”

  “Do you mind if I use it?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He took the kettle outside and dumped the contents into the tub until the water was tepid.

  Agnes and the girls had followed him out. “There you go.” He pointed to the container of water. “Your own private swimming hole.”

  While Agnes helped the girls strip to their underwear, Nels brought the baby out and laid her on a blanket in the shade.

  “What a good idea. Thank you,” Agnes said.

  “It’s okay for you to enjoy it too.”

  Her cheeks bloomed pink roses.

  Good heavens. Did she think he meant for her to be like the girls and undress? He felt the burn in his own cheeks that had nothing to do with the power of the sun. “I just mean, splash a bit of water on you. It will cool you off.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  He sat with his back to the house.

  She cocked her head. “Aren’t you going back to work?”

  “The horses need a rest.”

  “I see.”

  “I think this might be a pink rose.”

  She looked at him, startled. Then as understanding came, she smiled. “It is rather pleasant here.”

  Did she mean in the shade, with the girls playing in the tub of water?

  Or did she mean sharing the moment with him?

  He shoved the thought away. Ideas such as that were exactly what would give those who wished to judge a reason to do so.

  A pink rose. Agnes told herself the whole idea was foolish. Life was not a bed of roses, with or without thorns. But she could not convince herself she didn’t wish it was so and had to admit that for just this peaceful moment she felt she had been handed such a blossom.

  She had three little girls, a nice house, and someone to share the day with even if they had to be careful how they conducted themselves.

  The baby wakened and lay watching the shadows.

  Agnes had prepared a bottle but little Merry didn’t fuss so Agnes didn’t go inside to get it. Instead, she leaned against the house, careful to keep a circumspect distance between her and Nels.

  A lazy contentment settled over her.

  After a bit, Nels pushed to his feet. “Me and the horses are going back to work. You and the girls stay here and enjoy the afternoon.” He sauntered toward the barn and a few minutes later led the horses back to the plow.

  She should do something useful but the baby fussed and Agnes brought the bottle out and fed her in the shade. Lila and Hettie found some rocks and washed them in the water.

  The baby finished eating and fell back to sleep.

  Agnes put her on the blanket Nels had brought out.

  From where she sat she watched him plowing. His shirt was wet with sweat. Despite the heat, he continued to work. But he hadn’t made her or the girls feel they were an interruption or a nuisance.

  He was a good man.

  And she was a good woman despite what Truman had his witnesses say.

  The girls had splashed away the last of the water. She let them dry in the air and then helped them get dressed.

  Her gaze went again to Nels. He’d been out in the heat a couple of hours. He must be terribly hot.

  “Let’s take Uncle Nels some cold water and cookies.”

  The girls ran for the house. Agnes scooped up the baby and followed. They filled a jar with cold water. Lila said she could carry it. Agnes gave Hettie some cookies wrapped in a towel to carry and they set out, the baby in Agnes’s arm. Already she could feel dampness growing between the baby and herself. Merry would be cooler in one of those prams the city ladies had.

  Nels saw them coming, stopped at the end of the row, and wiped his brow on his sleeve as he waited for them.

  “This is very nice. Thank you for thinking of me. ” He eagerly took the water Lila offered and then sat on the grass and downed six cookies in rapid order. “I don’t think I’ll work much longer. Maybe I’ll come out again after supper if it cools off. Tomorrow I need to turn out the cows so they can graze.” He leaned back on his elbows. “I would have had the plowing done if I hadn’t left for two months.”

  “But you wouldn’t have found the Hereford animals.”

  “True. And I’m very pleased with them.”

  She sat with her legs to one side and looked at the furrows he had turned over.

  “And you wouldn’t have had a house for the girls.” His voice was soft.

  “So one regret and one satisfaction?”

  “Two satisfactions.”

  She faced him. “Two? But we’ve taken over your home.”

  “I’m not suffering. In fact, any inconvenience is more than compensated for by the pleasure of good meals, the joy of three little girls…” A beat of silence that echoed in her heart. “And someone to share them with.”

  She couldn’t tear herself from the sunlight in his eyes. Did it come from inside him or from the sky? Did he mean he enjoyed having her around?

  She trembled. This was dangerous ground.

  Gathering up her strength, she got to her feet. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

  He rose to stand beside her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you away. Don’t worry that I’ve forgotten our agreement. I haven’t. I know what we must do. It’s just nice not to be alone. Surely you feel that way too.”

  “I’ve been by myself so long that it feels right to me.” She would not admit how many times she had wished for someone to share her thoughts with or discuss simple little things of the day.

  “Being alone will never be right.” His words followed her away from the field.

  Not that she was by herself now. She had three little girls and keeping them was far and away more important than filling her lonely hours.

  When Nels came in for supper, she forced herself to remember that and the rules she had made.

  But he didn’t linger. He had stopped midafternoon, as he’d said he would. Spent the time in the barn, though she didn’t know what he did. After supper, he returned to plowing and worked until dark.

  She saw him bring the horses in. Only because she was feeding the baby, she assured herself.

  He didn’t come to the house. Of course, he had no need to. Nor had she expected it. She was used to having no one to share her thoughts with.

  The next morning she had the girls call him for breakfast when she saw him pumping water for the cows. He put Hettie on his shoulders as he crossed the yard and Lila swung from his hand.

  What about her rule to keep the girls from getting too fond of him? Though she couldn’t remember why she’d made that rule.

  He deposited both girls as he stepped into the house. “Good morning, Agnes. I trust you had a good sleep.”

  She was used to being on her own, having no one to share with, and yet words now poured from her mouth like being alone was the last thing in the world she’d ever considered. “Merry seems to have her days and nights mixed up. She doesn’t want to go back to sleep after her nighttime feeds. I fell asleep with her in my arms last night. Scared me to think I might have dropped her or rolled on her.”

  He crossed to her side and pressed his hand to her shoulder. “My mother said a newborn baby is the hardest, most tiring job in the wo
rld.”

  “She’s right.” She wanted to cling to his hand, find comfort and reassurance.

  “She said mothers of newborns should sleep whenever they can.”

  “The nights are far too short. I don’t think I slept more than an hour or two last night.”

  “You need to sleep during the day to catch up.”

  “Sleep in the day?”

  He laughed. “It’s not a crime.”

  “I can’t leave the girls unsupervised.”

  “Tell you what. I’m going to turn out my cows today. As soon as they’re settled I’ll come and get the girls and they can stay with me while I plow.”

  She should refuse but couldn’t find the strength to do so. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t offer if I did.”

  “Thank you.” She might make it through the day if she could rest. “Breakfast is ready.” Somehow she had managed to make the meal, though every task had been ponderous. How did mothers with half a dozen children manage? She had a whole new sympathy for them.

  The baby slept through breakfast, and Agnes had the kitchen cleaned before she wakened.

  Lila and Hettie stood in the open doorway watching Nels. “He’s riding his horse. He’s opening the gate.”

  Agnes took the baby to the door and fed her as she watched. Nels looked right at home in the saddle, more cowboy than farmer.

  He rode to the far side of the small pasture and began to herd the cattle toward the gate. The lead cow passed the gate, the others following as if they didn’t want to leave, but Nels galloped forward and turned them. The lead cow balked at the gate.

  Nels whistled and the cow ran through. The other animals followed. He stayed with them, but they soon realized they had fresh grazing and settled down to enjoy it.

  He leaned over the saddle horn, watching them, and then returned to the yard. Grinning widely, he called to her, “They’re going to stay nearby.” He had told her he was concerned they might wander away, get into one of the larger herds.

  “Good.” The baby finished her bottle, had burped, and now slept in her arms. If only she would sleep like that at nighttime.