Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)

by Linda Ford

  Ward looked up and smiled at her hurried approach. He glanced behind her as if checking for the boys. When he didn’t see them, his smile flattened. He took a step toward her, caught her arm as she reached him. “Where are the boys? Is something wrong?”

  She sucked in air before she could speak. “I can’t find Kit. He was there a moment ago and now he’s gone.” Her words came out in a breathless rush. If something happened to one of the boys, Ward would never forgive her. “I only turned my back to take care of Milo.”

  “Gone? Kit?”

  “I’m sure he hasn’t gone far. But I thought you would help me look.”

  Ward grabbed her arm and they trotted back to the yard. He stopped to look at Milo. “Where’s your brother?”

  “I don’t know.” He held the kitten tight to his chest as if thinking his father would demand he turn the kitten over to Kit.

  “Where have you looked?” he asked Freyda.

  She told him.

  He turned full circle, his gaze searching every visible spot. “This is not like Kit.”

  “It’s my fault. I should have been watching him more carefully.”

  Ward looked at her. “I’m not blaming you. I know you take care of them as if they were your own.”

  Freyda nodded. She wished they were. “Thank you.” She turned back to studying the yard. Where should they look? A movement at the side of one of the smaller buildings, the one farthest from the house, caught her eye. “Ward, look.”

  He looked the direction she pointed. “Kit.” He ran toward his son but a few feet away drew to a halt.

  Freyda followed and she, too, stopped abruptly, wrinkling her nose at a faint unpleasant odor.

  “I gots my own kitty,” Kit announced proudly.

  As he came closer, they backed away.

  “Son, that isn’t a kitten. It’s a skunk. How did you manage to pick it up without getting sprayed? Or bitten?”

  The distinct smell of skunk permeated the air. Freyda knew it could get much worse at any minute.

  Kit’s arms tightened around the furry creature. “He’s mine.”

  She half reached for the skunk, but stopped as Kit held tight. “Don’t squeeze him so hard,” Freyda said. “You might hurt him.” Worse, make him spray. When did baby skunks learn to shoot off that dreadful smell? It wasn’t something she’d ever before had a need to know.

  “Kit, put that animal down.” Ward’s voice was firm.

  Kit shook his head. “My kitty.”

  Ward looked at Freyda, silently asking for help.

  She nodded. “Kit, you know that’s a baby skunk.”

  “My kitty.” The animal squirmed.

  “Don’t squeeze it. Kit, it’s not a kitty. It’s a wild creature. Skunks stink. You won’t like it.”

  “I like it lots.”

  “Believe me, there will come a time you won’t.” But she knew the child wasn’t about to be argued or reasoned out of his pet. They had to try a different approach. “Maybe your papa will let you get one of Anker’s kittens for yourself.” She glanced at Ward and he nodded. “Wouldn’t you like that? Was there one you liked really well? I think your father will take you over to choose one.” She hoped Anker hadn’t given them all away by now.

  Kit looked at the skunk. After a moment he nodded and put him down. The skunk put up his bushy tail and stamped his feet. “He was hard to catch.”

  Ward grabbed Kit and the three of them backed away. The skunk waited until they had retreated to the barn before it scurried off.

  Ward leaned over Kit. “Let me see your hands.” He checked fingers and arms for signs of a bite. When he didn’t find any, he released a noisy breath. “That was too close for comfort.”

  “Papa, when we going to get my kitty?” Kit’s expression was eager.

  “It will have to wait until Sunday. I can’t afford to take time off from planting.”

  “How many days is that?”

  “Five sleeps,” Freyda said.

  “Five? That’s too long.” Kit’s shoulders sank and, head down, he shuffled away.

  Freyda watched him go and then the humor the situation hit her and she started to laugh. She stopped long enough to say to Ward, “I can just picture a pet skunk sitting on the doorstep.”

  Ward grinned. “That would be quite a sight.” His grin widened and grew into a chuckle. The chuckle expanded until laughter rolled from him.

  Freyda couldn’t stop laughing. Tears streamed down her face.

  Ward clutched her arm. She grabbed his and laughing, they clung to each other.

  He sobered. His eyes darkened as he watched her.

  Her laughter ended and she met his gaze, drawn into the pleasure of a shared moment. Something fragile as a newly spun cobweb, as strong as tempered steel went from her heart to his. She could not tear her gaze away. Just as she knew that connection could not be broken. Even if they never saw each other again, this moment, this feeling, this wanting would remain.

  He brushed his fingers along her cheek. “I better get at the seeding if I hope to finish.” And with that he strode away. Before he reached the horses, he began to whistle.

  She turned to Milo. “I’d like you to apologize to Kit for calling him stupid. You hurt his feelings.”

  Milo’s mouth drew back in a stubborn frown.

  She waited, wanting the boy to mean his words, not just say them.

  He sighed and turned to his little brother. “I’m sorry. You aren’t stupid. Wanna go play?”

  Hand in hand, the pair ran off.

  Smiling, she returned to the house and the rest of her work.

  Suppertime drew near. She shaded her eyes against the sun as she looked to where Ward worked. From what she could see, he still had a bit to go. She brought the boys in and fed them, setting aside food for Ward. And hoping for a time to visit him, she put aside enough for herself as well.

  The sun made its way to the western horizon, filling the sky with banners of pink and gold. Freyda stood on the step to enjoy it though her glance went more often to Ward than to the sky.

  Kit and Milo argued about the kitten and Kit cried. “Let’s get you two ready for bed.”

  “We wait for Papa,” Milo said.

  “Yes of course. Get washed up and into your nightshirts. I’ll tell you a story. Papa can put you to bed when he gets home.”

  She helped them. “Why not crawl under the covers and be comfortable while I tell you a story?” Perhaps they’d fall asleep.

  “Once upon a time, in Norway,” she began, and told them a story from her youth. By the time she finished, Kit was sound asleep. Milo struggled to keep his eyes open.

  Freyda bent over and kissed each of them. To Milo, she said, “Papa will come in as soon as he’s home. I promise.” She tiptoed out and returned to the kitchen. There was little she could start this late in the day. She wandered from the cupboard to the stove, to the table and then to the window. Dusk had settled over the land.

  She stepped outside and looked toward the field. Ward was a silhouette against the grey sky. He soon wouldn’t be able to see where he was going. He reached the end of the field and turned the horses toward home. He was done. Tomorrow they would start on her crop.

  She hugged herself. With Ward’s help she would learn to use the horses and do her own work. She would achieve her goal.

  Her arms tightened. Being a woman on her own had somehow lost its appeal. Oh yes, she still wanted to prove herself capable of doing something worthwhile on her own. But was this what she wanted?

  Ward unhitched the seeder by the barn. He let the horses drink then took them inside to brush them and feed them. They had earned a few days of rest while her horses would now do their share. They had stayed at home since Ward had closed the gate and she’d taken to giving them a ration of oats every day.

  Freyda went to the barn and stood by the door as Ward worked. “It’s nice you finished.”

  “You’ll be glad that tomorrow I start on your field.”


  That wasn’t why she was happy he was done. “It’s important for you to get your crop in. You need it.” She’d said it poorly. Would he understand that she was pleased on his behalf?

  He straightened and looked at her. “You need yours too in order to survive the winter.” Their gazes held over the distance though it was too dark for her to guess what they revealed.

  “Winter.” She hadn’t meant to whisper the word aloud. “A long, lonely time.” She imagined herself sitting in a cold room, huddled close to the stove for warmth. Forcing herself out of the house to do the chores. Spending the rest of the time alone. Perhaps she’d read. Or sew. Maybe she’d make a quilt or two. At least she had Smokey for company, but the thought did not ease the knot tightening around her heart.

  She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts. She would do what she must do. “Your supper is ready.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Freyda hurried back to the house. She lit the lamp and set it in the middle of the table. She didn’t have to wait long to hear Ward’s boots clatter on the step. Her insides jolted. Ignoring her reaction, she pulled two plates from the warming oven and set them on the table.

  “I thought I would eat with you, Keep you company. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I appreciate it. Are the boys in bed?”

  “They are and I promised you would kiss them good night as soon as you got in.”

  He crossed to the bedroom and went inside, stepping out a minute later. “Both are sound asleep.” He joined her at the table, bowed his head, and asked a blessing then tucked into his food with the eagerness of a man who had done physical work all day.

  “Thanks for doing the laundry,” he said between mouthfuls.

  “I didn’t mind. There’s something satisfying about watching clothes flap on the line and then bringing them in and smelling that clean scent.”

  His eyebrows went up. “You sound like you enjoy doing laundry.”

  “I do. Same with washing dishes. I love to stand back and see them in neat, clean piles in the cupboard then look around to see the kitchen free of dirty dishes.” She sighed expansively.

  He chuckled. “I had no idea housework was so much fun.”

  She shrugged, half embarrassed by her confession. “Don’t you feel the same about finishing a field?”

  “I suppose I do. I take pride in straight rows and the job done.”

  “There you go. We’re like matching bookends.” She stuffed a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. What was wrong with her to speak that way? As if to suggest—

  “We do make a good team.” He stirred the gravy around on his plate. “Too bad—” He didn’t finish. Instead, he scooped up the last of his meal and filled his mouth.

  She didn’t dare ask what he’d been about to say. Afraid she would be disappointed.

  Because? she demanded of her foolish heart.

  With a barely audible sigh, she answered herself.

  Because she longed for more than either of them was prepared to offer.

  Ward finished and she gathered up the dishes and put them in the dishpan.

  “Leave them,” he said.

  “But I can’t. I won’t be back in the morning.” She glanced around the room and admitted to herself that she would miss coming here and taking care of Ward and the boys. Don’t be silly. They’ll be coming to your place.

  But only until her crop was in the ground and then there would be no need for anything but occasional neighborly visits.

  “I’ll wash them along with the breakfast dishes. You need to get home.” He pulled the lantern off the shelf and lit it. “It’s full dark. Take this. Swing it when you reach home safely.”

  She wanted to argue but he was right. It was dark.

  “I’ll take the lamp out when I see your signal.”

  He walked her to the door, stood with her on the step, and handed her the lantern. He wrapped one arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. “Be safe.” Then he released her and stepped back.

  She forced herself to leave the shelter of the house and the safety of his presence and made her way home. At her doorstep, she swung the lantern back and forth until she saw the faint golden light of the lamp. Smiling, she stepped inside.

  She did her few chores and prepared for bed. Tomorrow things would change. And yet they’d be similar. But nothing felt the same.

  Something Ward had said plagued her thoughts. Maybe it’s time you stopped trying to prove something to everyone else and decide what it is you want. She’d come all the way from Norway to get her farm. Now she wasn’t certain she still wanted the same thing.

  Could she have made a mistake in coming to America?

  9

  Ward and the boys walked down the path toward Freyda’s house. Or mostly the boys ran and he lengthened his stride to keep up. They reached the door before he did and Freyda welcomed them each with a hug.

  He stood behind his boys. Might be nice to be hugged too, but he had already informed himself that he could not be yearning after things out of his reach so he settled for saying, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning to all of you.”

  He allowed himself to think her smiling eyes might have lingered somewhat longer than her greeting required.

  “Did you have coffee? Do you want some, or are you anxious to get to work?”

  For a moment, he forgot about work, but forced it back to the forefront of his thoughts. “I had coffee at home, thanks. I’ll be getting to your seeding.” He headed for the small pasture where Boots and Boss grazed and whistled for them. They trotted over and he led them to the barn.

  He wasn’t surprised, nor disappointed, that Freyda followed him and insisted on trying to do the harnessing.

  Boss and Boots were not as gentle or as well trained as his pair and tossed their heads and resisted her attempts.

  He grabbed their halters and ordered them to stand still.

  They snorted, but obeyed him. He held them as she harnessed them and stepped to one side as she took them to the seeder.

  “Back up,” she ordered, pulling on the reins exactly as he had taught her.

  But Boots shuffled to one side and Boss refused to move.

  “I’ll help you,” Ward offered.

  “And who will help me when you’re done here?” She ground the words out over gritted teeth.

  If he needed any more proof that she still clung to her determination to run this farm as she and Baruk had planned, that was it. So he stood helplessly to one side as she struggled with the horses and yelled at them in Norwegian. He didn’t ask what she said. Figured it was best to keep his mouth shut until she was ready to ask for help.

  She dragged her arm across her forehead to wipe off the sweat then jammed her fists to her hips and stared at the horses. She spun around to face him. “I’ll trade you straight across. My horses for your horses.”

  He laughed then cut the sound at the look she gave him.

  “I like my pair just fine. And yours will be good too. They’ve simply gotten fat and lazy.”

  “Lazy and rebellious. Why I have half a mind to—” She tossed her hands upward. “I give up. Will you put the stubborn beasts to work? Maybe that will take some of the cantankerousness out of them.” She crossed to the house, muttering about horses.

  The boys looked from Ward to Freyda.

  “She’s mad,” Kit said.

  Ward paused from his task. Were the boys afraid of her? Surely not. But then, he’d trusted Mrs. Wright and look what she’d done. He’d trusted Dorothy enough to marry her and it had been a mistake. He watched Freyda. He believed his sons were safe with her. Could he be wrong?

  “Come on,” Milo said. “She’s not mad at us. Let’s go see her kitten.”

  Kit followed his brother. “Papa says I can have my own kitten.”

  Relieved to know his faith in Freyda’s kindness was shared by the boys, Ward took the now cooperative horses to the field. He worked close enough to the
house to be able to see Freyda and the boys as they went to the chicken house, then played with the kitten. After that, they played some sort of game that involved the two boys chasing Freyda. Once they caught her she tickled them, then they ran away so she had to chase them. Again, she caught them and tickled them.

  Ward grinned as their rowdy laughter reached him. But deep inside, lay a spot that ached at their play. They needed someone like Freyda in their lives every day. And he could not convince himself he meant only the boys.

  When the sun was high overhead, Freyda and the boys walked to the field to inform him dinner was ready. She stayed at his side as he took the horses to the barn for their midday break.

  She scowled at the animals. “Looks to me like you lost some of your snuff and stuff this morning.”

  He chuckled. “A couple of days working hard and they’ll be a gentle as lambs. Especially if you reward them with their favorite treat.”

  “That I will.” She gave them each a ration of oats.

  Ward walked at her side to the house where Milo and Kit waited on the step for them.

  “I hope you like Norwegian food, because that’s what I’ve prepared for you.”

  Wanting to ease the worried tone from her voice, he said, “I’m not familiar with Norwegian food, but I can tell by looking at you that it is good.”

  She stopped to stare at him, her gaze guarded. “What does that mean?”

  He hadn’t thought before he spoke and now couldn’t think how to explain what he meant. He could hardly say Norwegian food made for a beautiful woman. “Well, you’re strong and stubborn.”

  At the way her eyes narrowed he corrected himself.

  “I mean determined. It’s a good thing.”

  She nodded, still not satisfied.

  What did he have to lose if he said what he was thinking? “Yup, you’re strong, determined, and beautiful.”

  Her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. She clicked it shut, swallowed hard. “Me? Beautiful?” The words squeaked from her throat.

  “Don’t you own a looking glass?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then you already know it.” He shrugged and continued toward the house.

  It took three seconds for her to follow. “My looking glass doesn’t talk.”