by Jillian Hart
“Just check on the mare. I can handle the milking.” She emptied the water bucket into the cow’s trough, chasing out the last drops before lowering it to the ground. She grabbed the second bucket. “Did she drink and eat last night?”
“Her water’s down, but she didn’t touch her food.” Seth looked up from tethering General to the center pole. “Don’t look so worried. She’s probably protesting her treatment here. Some wild horses have been known to starve to death in captivity.”
“That makes me feel much better about keeping her tied up in here.”
Linnea approached the second stall. The mustang was huddled in the corner, just out of sight. She lifted the bucket and water tumbled into the empty trough. The shadowed mare neighed a sharp, high warning.
Seth’s hand closed over the metal handle, his arm hard and warm against her shoulder. “Let me finish up. You need to talk to her. Reassure her. Yesterday a barbed wire fence, today a stall and rope. It’s tough being a horse.”
It was tough being a woman around Seth Gatlin. Although Linnea’s pulse was thudding in her ears and her blood zinged through her veins, she reminded herself of her goal. She wasn’t going to give in to the temptation to dwell on their kiss.
He’d been lonely. She’d been lonely. That was all there was to it.
But the part of her that was always dreaming called her a liar.
* * *
“It’s healing up, girl. You won’t be hurting much longer.” Although he loosened the mare’s hoof, his grip on the hobbles remained firm. She fought, but she couldn’t kick him.
“She’s not affected by your charm,” Linnea pointed out from the other side of the stall.
“Give her time. I’ll win her over.” Seth released the rope and moved fast enough to avoid a powerful hoof to his knee. “I’m going to be sorry I didn’t leave those hobbles on her.”
“At least she can lie down.”
The mare lunged, teeth snapping.
So close, Seth could feel her breath on his forearm. “Take it easy, girl. I know you’re afraid, but just be glad you’re here instead of in Neilson’s barn. He’d be ready to haul you in for slaughter about now.”
“Don’t even joke about that.” Linnea’s chin shot up, and she was pure anger. Fire danced in her eyes, and it was a beautiful sight. “I don’t know what’s got into Lars Neilson, but I won’t come down on my price when he buys his next milk cow.”
“I’m glad I’m on your good side, since we haven’t negotiated the price of my cow.” He swung the gate shut behind him. “I want you to come into the barn every few hours. Leave her any treat you can think of.”
“Sugar cubes?”
“Or a piece of peppermint candy. A part of an apple. Maybe you’ve still got carrots in the cellar. Talk to her, leave them for her. See if she starts associating you with something good to eat.”
“Just what I want. She sees me and bares her teeth.” Linnea chuckled, a soft, low sound that slid across his skin. “Her leg is going to be okay?”
“It’ll be like new. The cut wasn’t deep, so she’s lucky. I don’t feel any heat, so she may have skirted an infection.”
He latched the door and grabbed the milk pail from Linnea’s slender hands. Too bad she moved so fast that he’d missed touching her. He liked the way her hands looked—slim, graceful, long fingered.
The morning sun was drying the dewy grass as they headed for the house, and Seth couldn’t remember a finer morning. Spring was transforming the land, and last night’s storm had brought a change to the prairies.
And maybe to his heart.
He could feel it like the breeze on his face and the ground at his feet.
Across the road, cows leaned on the split rail fence and their plaintive moos rose to earsplitting levels.
“Those are my girls, who are spoiled something terrible. I’ve started to feed them grain in the mornings and they aren’t going to let me forget.”
“See? If it works with the cows, it will work with the mustang.”
She shot him a warning look, that behave-or-else look he was starting to like. The cows mooed so loudly, it hurt his ears.
“Quiet down over there.” Linnea’s voice warmed as if she were talking to old friends. “I’ll feed the bunch of you in a little bit.”
“Doesn’t look like they’re going to accept that. Can I take a look at them?”
It was nice simply walking across the road with her. Listening to the wind in her skirts and the light step of her dainty boots on the earth. Breathing her scent. Being next to her made him feel more like the man he used to be.
The cows crowded close, straining over the top rail to be the one to receive a brush from Linnea’s hand. Seth didn’t blame them one bit.
She drew him like sunlight and he couldn’t look away as she greeted each Jersey by name and ran her fingertips over their light-brown noses.
She had six cows ready to come fresh, their pregnant sides inflating heavily as they breathed. Six heifers ready to be bred this year. Yearlings clung to their mother’s sides, eagerly crowding close to nip at Linnea’s skirt through the fence rails.
He could see why her animals were in demand. “How about I take this one?”
Linnea followed his hand. “That’s Patches. She’s a friendly cow, and she doesn’t kick. She’ll be good around Ginny’s son.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“I’ll let you know when she’s ready.” Linnea moved close, her arm brushing his, to rub Patches’s ears. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”
“Do I pay you then? Or now?”
“Why don’t we wait until you take her home.” Linnea turned and ignored the cow’s deafening protests.
He fell in stride beside her, feeling the sun on his face and something stirring in his heart.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was because he’d kissed her last night. Or maybe this feeling sharp and new was something else entirely.
He’d have to wait and see.
Linnea hopped up the steps, calling out to her mother, and kicked off her boots at the door. Then she took the milk pail from him with a smile, one that made him remember the beauty of her kiss, the taste of it, the texture.
He didn’t question why his heart was pounding as he stepped into the house. Or the memories that did not come with pain as he sat down to the table with the scent of pancakes and sausage sizzling in the air.
He’d learned in his thirty-three years of living that it was best not to question when something extraordinary happened.
So he accepted it. Just like that.
Across the table, Linnea smiled as she handed him the platter of eggs fried just the way he liked it.
For the first time since he’d arrived in this small corner of Montana, he was damn glad to be here.
Chapter Seven
“There’s no need to hurry.” Linnea gently guided her mother away from a pothole in the road. “I don’t want you turning an ankle.”
“How exciting it is to be heading to town. I have waited for this all winter.”
“And you’ll be waiting longer if you’re not careful.” Linnea tightened her hold on her mother’s arm. “Over here, where the road’s not so rough.”
“How sweet it is to have a daughter to fuss over me.”
“How nice it is to have you with me today. A new fabric shipment came into McIntyre’s the last time I was there. I think with the extra money I’ve made sewing, we can choose enough for a new dress for you.”
“For me? What good will a new dress do me? I have my sprigged lawn that serves me fine for trips to town, and I need for nothing more. What about a new dress for you, flicka? A pretty blue calico that brings out the beauty of your eyes?”
“I need for nothing and you know it. With you, I have all I need.”
“Ah, a daughter’s love. How fortunate I am.” Mama squeezed Linnea’s hand, and a lifetime of love could not be mistaken.
Sadness wedged like a blade in Li
nnea’s chest and she was glad her mother could not see it. How dear Mama was, and yet endlessly misguided. “A new dress will not make the major court me.”
“Ah, but it could not hurt.”
“He’s a widower. He buried a wife and children and he doesn’t yearn for another family.”
“I would not be too sure.” Mama’s chin bowed, as if she’d lost some of her grand hopes. “What loneliness there is in his voice.”
“He’ll be leaving after the harvest.”
“He need not leave alone.”
“Oh, you are stubborn when you want to be!” Linnea nearly dropped the starched and pressed shirts she carried. “This is a good life we have, and I know how lucky I am every morning when I awaken and every night when I go to sleep. End of discussion.”
“We will buy you cloth for a new dress. A single mistake should not a lifetime make, Linnea.”
But it did. She bit her bottom lip, holding back the words that would cause her mother only pain.
The sun, warm on her back, was like a soothing touch. Linnea listened to the song of the prairie—the melody of the wind through the new grasses, the trill of larks and the harmony of chickadees. She felt the tension ease from her clenched jaw.
Yes, this life was good. She did not want for more. And if it was a lie, she would not give it voice as she watched the prairie grasses ripple like a brilliant green ocean at the wind’s touch. The drooping blossoms of yellow bells nodded patiently, turning the meadows a bright yellow with their solemn peaceful presence.
A peace that comforted her like nothing could.
The rattle of a wagon wheel in the road behind them drew her attention. She spun around, gently tugging her mother to the far edge of the road.
“Goodness, it sounds like Ginny’s wagon, but could it be the Neilsons’ oxen?” Mama wondered, turning her blind eyes to the spot in the road where the team of black oxen drew a sturdy wagon.
Seth sat on the bench seat above them, holding thick reins in his capable hands. His hat was tilted at a jaunty angle to shade his eyes from the sun. “Look what a lucky fellow I am coming across two beautiful women on my way to town.”
“Major!” Mama clasped her hands together in delight. “You must be breaking sod. Where is your fine stallion?”
“Grazing in the shade back home, no doubt.” He drew the rattling wagon to a stop beside them. “I got a good price on these oxen, so I up and bought them. Would you ladies like a ride to town?”
Seth’s eyes sparkled, because he knew darn well Linnea wasn’t about to say no, not with her mother along. “Thank you. It’s a long walk for Mama.”
“Glad to be of service.” Seth hopped down.
Clods of dirt crumbled off his work boots as he touched the ground. Dressed for hard work, he wore trousers with a patch at the knee and one of her muslin shirts.
“I see they fit just fine.” She commented when he held out his hand to help her up into the tall wagon.
“Now, see here one minute,” Mama interjected. “I do not wish to be in the middle. Always have hated the middle. You help me up first, young man.”
“Are you sure? I might hit a bump in the road and the wagon might buck you right off the seat.” Holding back his grin and failing, Seth caught hold of Mama’s elbow.
“Did anyone teach you not to question your elders?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I couldn’t help playing the devil.”
He stepped up on the frame, holding the frail woman steady as she climbed onto the seat. His grip on her bone-thin arm was gentle but steady. There was no mistaking the care he took with her.
Something sharp passed through Linnea’s chest, leaving her strangely vulnerable. What a wonderful man he was. Good to the core. As he settled her mother on the seat and made sure she was comfortable, she felt the pain again. Harder this time. Sharper.
With the sunlight blazing around him, he came for her. His hand lighted on her shoulder, and desire for him burned all the way to her soul.
She wanted him. More than she’d wanted anything in her life. She wanted this man to hold her close when the night was cold. To know the depths of his kiss and the strength of his heart. To share with him her body and to hold him deep inside.
She could smell the tart scent of the earth on his clothes and the hint of salt on his skin. Dark stubble clung to his jaw, as if he hadn’t taken the time to shave before starting his work in the fields.
“Let me take your package.” He slipped the bundled shirts from her arm.
She was hardly aware of anything but the pressure of his hand on her elbow as he helped her up. Of the worn-smooth seat back and the rhythm of his breathing. Breathless, she climbed onto the bench seat and accepted the package he held for her.
While her heart raced with emotions too frightening to name, Seth looked at her with gentle regard. The way one neighbor looked upon another.
You’ve fallen in love with him, just like you swore not to do. She had no one to blame but herself. Certainly not the wonderful man settling onto the seat beside her.
She was too much a dreamer.
One thing was certain. She’d keep this secret in her heart. No one—ever—would know how foolish she was, loving a man she could never be worthy of.
* * *
She was like touching spring. The fire of it. The beauty. Seth gritted his teeth and refused to so much as look at Linnea out of the corner of his eye. Her thigh pressed against his and as the miles passed, the constant soft, firm pressure had built into a tingling heat that flowed like molten lava through his veins.
The town neared and the roads became busy and the oxen were young and needed his attention, but the truth at the back of his mind remained.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d never thought he’d feel this way again.
“My, but the mercantile sounds busy.” Mrs. Holmstrom turned toward the store as if she saw it. “Shoppers are everywhere. I can hear their shoes on the boardwalk.”
“It’s a popular day to come to town.” He pulled the oxen to a halt in the street. “That’s the closest I can get.”
Linnea’s hand curled around his wrist. “This is fine. You don’t have to help us down with the traffic so busy.”
“I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t. Helping beautiful ladies is my calling in life.”
She blushed, an innocent bloom of gentle pink across her porcelain cheeks. “I know a sweet-talking con artist when I hear one. Mama, don’t pay this silver-tongued devil any mind. Give me your hand.”
How she could make him laugh! He felt alive in a thousand different ways and it was as precious as a dream. He circled the wagon and held out his hand to her mother.
It had been a long time since he’d been courting and for the life of him he couldn’t remember the first thing about it. But he had no doubts about what he was going to do. Seth guided the older woman to the boardwalk, and then returned to find Linnea climbing from the seat.
He caught her before she landed, his hands banding her arms and holding her in midair for one brief moment. The jangle of the harness and the drone of voices faded into silence. He met her gaze, wildflower-blue, and his heart tumbled in his chest.
Yessir, he had no doubt. Not a single one.
“Wait for me and I’ll drive you back,” he offered. “Your mother doesn’t need to walk all the way home.”
“You’re a thoughtful man.” Linnea looked at him as if he’d hung the moon, with her eyes wide and lit from within. Then the light faded and she withdrew to a proper distance, reaching to tug at her bonnet ribbons. “We won’t be long at the mercantile.”
“I’ve got a few errands, and I’ll be back.” He tipped his hat.
He hopped into the wagon and released the brake. The oxen were edgy from the noise around them, but they seemed to settle a bit when he took the reins. Talking low to them, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Linnea slip through the glass-fronted door and out of his sight.
But not out of his m
ind. He pulled the team up in front of the seamstress shop where sun reflected in the window around a dazzling red-and-white quilt, the one Linnea had sewn with her two hands.
He wasn’t sure what made him tether the team and hesitate outside the door. With his dirt-streaked clothes, he wasn’t dressed to step inside the elegant shop, but he turned the brass knob anyway.
A dainty bell tinkled over his head as he pushed inside. He took one look at the half a dozen women, their backs to him, looking through thick books at the counter, and almost turned around. He swept off his hat, feeling more awkward than he’d felt in his entire life.
“May I help you?” a handsome woman asked quietly, approaching from the side.
“I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully. He couldn’t say why he’d even stepped through the door. “I’d like to look around.”
“I have plenty of gifts for a courting man,” the woman said wisely, keeping her voice low so that it wouldn’t carry. She gestured toward the racks of satin and silk dresses and the display of fancy bonnets. “Or, a smaller token. Take your time and please ask if you’d like help in choosing.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
He couldn’t imagine Linnea would have much use for a huge hat with feathers or imitation fruit on it. And as pretty as the dresses were, he figured it’d be forward to buy clothing for a woman he wasn’t married to. So he stepped up to the display counter where silver and gold gleamed.
“When are you going to take that quilt out of the window, Ellie?” one of the women from the group asked.
“When I sell it,” the proprietor answered from the far end of the shop. “You may well consider it for your daughter’s wedding bed. What a beautiful remembrance it will make.”
“I’ll not buy something made from Linnea Holmstrom’s needle, thank you very much.”
“Be charitable. The poor girl paid well enough for a single mistake,” another answered.
Seth glanced at the door and back at the gaggle of women in their tailored dresses. Small towns, small minds. It happened in the best of places, and here was no exception.