Читать книгу High Country Bride - Jillian Hart - Страница 11

Daybreak was her favorite time of day. Joanna drank in the peaceful quiet of the morning, savoring it like a rare treat. Every sunrise brought its own unique beauty. As she breathed in the hush that seemed to spread across the still land before the first hint of dawn, she could almost pretend that today would be full of promise, too. While the songbirds fell silent and the mountains seemed to sigh in reverence, she could almost feel the grace of God’s presence, and hope—how she hoped—that she was not forgotten by him.

The cow grazing in the yard lowed quietly, the only sound in the entire world. The serenity of the morning seemed to swell as the first trails of gold flared above the deep blue mountains. She squeezed her eyes shut and let the soft warmth wash over her, willing the pure first light to cleanse away her fears and her doubts. She prayed that it would give her courage and insight for the hard morning ahead.

The cow mooed again, impatient this time. Joanna opened her eyes to see the animal Aiden had taken back from Pa’s farm gazing at her with pleading eyes. The cow must have scented the small portion of grain in the bottom of the feed bucket, and was straining against her picket rope to get at it.

“I’m sorry, Rosebud. Here you are.” She set the bucket down at the cow’s front hooves. Instantly, the animal dived into her breakfast, tail swishing with contentment.

At least she looked better fed here on the lush grasses of Aiden’s land. Pa had always been stingy with the livestock’s feed, although Joanna had always sneaked grain and treats to Rosebud. She set the three-legged stool on the cow’s left side and placed the milk pail between her feet. Holding it steady in case Rosebud lurched suddenly, Joanna stroked the cow’s flank, talking to her for a few moments before starting to milk.

She could no longer see the rising sun breaking over the mountains, but the light was changing, the darkness turning to long blue shadows. A golden hue crept across the land to crown Aiden’s two-story house. Painted yellow, it seemed to absorb the slanted gold rays and glow.

I buried a wife and son years ago, what was most precious to me. Again, his words came back to her like a haunting refrain. His wife had chosen that soft buttery color. Joanna didn’t need to know anything about Aiden or his past to know that. No Montana rancher would choose that feminine, comforting color for his house. Just like the carved wooden curlicues decorating the top pillars of the porch fronts. Or the carefully carved rail posts. Such workmanship must have been done out of love for his wife.

Joanna felt in awe of such devotion. What a deep bond Aiden must have known. Respect for him filled her like the rising sun, and suddenly, there he was, as if her thoughts had brought him to life, striding down the porch steps with a milk pail in hand. She didn’t know if it was just her lofty opinion of the man, but he looked wholly masculine. With light outlining the impressive width of his shoulders, he strode through the long shadows.

Not even those shadows were enough to hide the set of his frown and the tension straining his jaw as he marched toward her. “Who said you could milk my cow?”

“Sorry, I guess I’ve helped myself to your morning chores. I wanted to make your load easier, for doing the same for me last night.” She spoke over the hissing stream of milk into the pail. “It’s a fair turn. Surely you’re not angry with me for that?”

Was it her imagination, or was there a weakening of that grimace in the corners of his mouth? “You are a surprising woman, Mrs. Nelson.”

“You can call me Joanna.” She could not resist saying it, even though she knew he would refuse to. “I gathered the eggs in the henhouse, too.”

“There was no need to do my chores.”

“How else am I to pay you what I owe?”

Aiden came closer, casting her in his long shadow. “Who said you owe me anything?”

“Please don’t try that tact, Mr. McKaslin.”

“What tact?” He knelt beside her, bringing with him the fresh scent of soap. “And you can call me Aiden.”

“You’re a decent man, Aiden. I’ll not take advantage of that.”

His hand, so very large, reached out and covered her wrist, stopping her. His fingers, so very warm, squeezed gently. “I’ll finish up here. You had best go see to your little ones.”

“They’ll be fine enough until I finish.”

“Please.” It was the plea in his eyes that moved her, that revealed a man of great heart. “I’m not comfortable letting a woman do my work. I’ll bring you some of the milk after I strain it.”

How could she say no to the man who had given her one night of safe harbor? One night of peaceful sleep? He was like a reminder of hope on this perfect, golden morning, even with the shadows that seemed to cling to him.

“Go on.” It was softly said, and surprising, coming from such a hard-looking man. “You have done enough for now.”

She swallowed, lost in his midnight-blue eyes. They were shielded from her, and as guarded as the peaks of the Rocky Mountains towering over the long stretch of prairie. Curiosity filled her, but he wasn’t hers to wonder about, so she pulled away and rose from the stool. With the first step she took, she felt a pang of lonesomeness. Her hand, warm from his touch, was cold in the temperate morning.

He watched her with his penetrating gaze, unmoving. Behind him on the porch, another man came to a sudden halt, yanked down the wide brim of his hat to shield his eyes from the sun without bothering to disguise his disdainful frown in her direction.

Last night Aiden had mentioned a brother. A brother who made him look even kinder and ten times more mature and masculine by comparison. The intensity of this man’s scowl made Joanna shiver.

“Don’t mind Finn.” Aiden’s comment carried on the breeze. “He’s got a lot to learn about life and manners.”

Across the yard, Finn muttered a terse answer that was drowned out by the harsh clatter of his boots on the steps. Anger emanated from him like heat from a stove. Joanna took one look at him and stayed where she was.

“Don’t blame you for not wanting to cross his path.” Aiden had hunkered down on the stool beside the cow. “When Finn’s got his dander up, he’s meaner than a rattler trapped in a brush fire. I apologize for him.”

“There’s no need. I’m the trespasser here.”

“You’ve gone pale. He upset you.”

“No, he reminded me of someone. M-my husband.”

That explained it. Aiden didn’t need to know anything more to see how her life had been. Sourness filled his stomach. Life was hard enough without such people in it. “Finn would make a poor husband.”

She didn’t comment, but the way she tensed up, as if she were holding too much inside, let him know more than her answer ever could. “Come by in, say, thirty minutes and I’ll have breakfast on the table. Your young ones might as well eat while we figure out what you and I are going to do.”

“About what I owe you?”

“No.” Tied up inside, he said the word with all the patience he had. “You have to go somewhere, Joanna. You can’t keep living out of your wagon.”

He could see her face beneath the shadow of her bonnet. Really, she was very lovely; her forehead and nose, cheekbones and chin were so fine they could have been sculpted of porcelain. Her big blue eyes were as pretty as cornflowers and her mouth looked soft and cozy, as if she had spent a lot of her life smiling. Once upon a time.

Her brows knit and her chin shot up. “Plenty of folks live out of their wagons when times get hard.”

Pride. He knew something about that. “I wasn’t criticizing. Only saying that eventually winter is going to come. Maybe I can help you with that.”

Her throat worked at the word help. Pain shot across her face. Whether she suspected his motives or wanted nothing to do with his help, he couldn’t know. She gave a nod of acknowledgment—not of agreement—and went on her way through the growing, seed-topped grasses.

Painted with dawn’s soft golden light like that, framed as she was by the crisp lush green of the prairie, Aiden felt he was seeing her for the first time. She was a truly lovely woman. He might even say beautiful.

He wasn’t proud of himself for noticing.

Joanna kept swallowing against the painful burn in her throat as she whisked a dollop of milk into the egg batter. Eventually winter is going to come. Aiden McKaslin’s remembered words made that pain worse. Maybe I can help you with that. Charity. That’s what he saw when he looked at her. A woman to be pitied.

Shame filled her, because it was the worst sort of criticism. She stopped whisking to flip the thick-cut bacon sizzling in one of the frying pans. Charity was all pretty and tidy and wrapped up real nice when you were the one giving it. It was different when you were on the other end. She’d been able to keep her chin up before, because she had been doing her best. There had been solace in that.

Now he thought she expected his help, that she would accept it. He meant well, but she was afraid of being in a man’s debt. Even in a good man’s debt. Anyone could see that Aiden McKaslin was a good man.

“Ma.” Daisy gave her rag doll a squeeze where she sat on a chair at the round oak table. “Can I get a drink of water?”

“You just had one, baby.” Joanna knew the child wasn’t asking for water, but to be able to get down from the chair and move around. “This isn’t our home, so we have to mind our manners. I want you to please sit there a little while longer.”

“Oh. Okay.” The little girl sighed and squeezed her doll harder.

“Ma?” James fidgeted in his chair and swung his feet back and forth. “I’m awful hungry. Especially for some of that bacon.”

There was no missing the hope on his face. Real bacon. They’d had such a luxury when they had their own little plot of land and their own pig to butcher. Joanna sighed, remembering those times, harder in some ways, better in others. “This is Mr. McKaslin’s breakfast. We ate in the shanty before we came here.”

“I know, but I was hopin’…” He left the sentence dangling, as if afraid to ask the question he already knew the answer to, but wanting to hold on to that hope.

She couldn’t blame him for that. “Maybe there will be a surprise for two good children later on. How about that?”

“Yes, ma’am!” James stopped fidgeting and sat up soldier straight, eager at the thought of a surprise.

“Oh, yes.” Daisy offered a dimpled smile.

It took so little to please them. Joanna’s heart ached as she poured the eggs into the waiting skillet. If only there was something more than another few pieces of saved candy for them. They deserved more than she could give them—at least now, anyway. In a month’s time, there would be fieldwork to do. It was hard labor, and she still didn’t know what to do with her babies while she worked, but at least she could hope for real wages. Hope for a betterment of her children’s lives.

The eggs sizzled and she whisked them around the pan, reaching for the salt and pepper. She surveyed her work in progress. The bacon was crisping up real nice, the tea was steeping and the buttermilk biscuits in the oven were smelling close to done. Cooking for the man wasn’t much of a repayment, but it was all she had to offer.

The back door swung open and there was Aiden, leaving his boots behind in the lean-to and staring at her with shock on his stony face. The kindness she’d come to see there vanished, replaced by a cold blast of anger.

“What are you doing?” His voice was loud enough to echo around the room. He came swiftly toward her, with raw fury and full power. “Get out of my kitchen.”

She’d expected him to be happy that she’d cooked for him, saving him the chore. She kept stirring the eggs so they wouldn’t congeal. “In a moment. I’m nearly done here. I didn’t mean to intrude. I know it was forward of me, but—”

“I want you out.” He drew himself up as if ready for a fight.

Yet she was not afraid of him. She heard Daisy crying quietly at the table and James hop off his chair to come to her aid.

“Outside, both of you.” She laid down the whisk. “Aiden, the biscuits are ready. Let me take them out of the oven.”

“Now, Joanna.” The words came out strangled.

He was not angry at her, she realized. There, behind his granite face, she thought she caught something terrible—grief and sorrow—before that glimmer of emotion faded from his eyes. He stared at her, cold and imposing. He did not have to say another word. His face said it for him. She was not welcome here. Coming had been a mistake. An enormous mistake.

Miserable, she turned away. She had to detour widely to avoid bumping his arm with her shoulder, for he’d planted himself in the middle of the kitchen. Shame made her feel small as she hustled to the door, where her children waited, wide-eyed and silent, in the lean-to.

So much for her brainy ideas. She took James with one hand and Daisy with the other. They tumbled into the blinding sunshine together. Dust kicked up beneath their shoes as they hopped off the last step and into the dry dirt. To the right lay a garden, the vegetables small and stunted, wilting in the morning sun. Duty cried out to Joanna to water those poor plants, for their sake as much as for Aiden’s. She glanced over her shoulder, remembering the awful look on his face.

She could see him in the shadows of the kitchen, standing where she’d left him, his shoulders slumped, his hands covering his face.

She’d never seen a man look so sad. Her feet became rooted to the ground, even though James was tugging at her hand. Something held her back. Something deep in her heart that would not let her leave the man behind.

He’d loved his wife. He really had. Joanna stared at him, transfixed by the shadows that seemed to surround him, by the slump of defeat of his invincible shoulders and the hurt rolling off him like dust in a newly tilled field.

She could see as plain as day what she’d done. Had there been another woman in this lovely house he’d built for her since her death? Probably not. He’d simply walked with no warning into the kitchen from his work in the barn to see a woman standing where his wife had once stood, cooking his breakfast.

Sympathy flooded her. Joanna hung her head, staring at her scuffed and patched shoes dusty from the dry Montana dirt. What she’d done with the best of intentions must have cut him to the soul.

How did she make this right? Would it be cruel to try to stay and work off what she owed him, and put him through this kind of remembering? Or was it better to pack up the children and leave? Which would be the best thing to do? There had been a time in her life when she would have turned to the Lord through prayer for an answer.

Now, she merely felt the puff of the hot breeze against her face and the muddle of agony in her middle. It was strange that Aiden’s hurt was so strong she could feel it as easily as the ground beneath her feet.

“Why’s he so mad, Ma?” James asked quietly, his hand tight in hers.

“He’s had a great loss.”

“Oh. Does that mean he had a funeral?”

“Yes.”

“He’s sad. Like I was when Pa died.” James’s breathing caught in a half sob, and he fell silent.

Joanna had never known that kind of sorrow, one that was deep and strong enough to have broken a person in two. Out of respect for Aiden’s privacy, she turned away. She made her feet carry her forward, past the garden and those tender parched plants, and she did not look back. Although not looking made no difference. She could feel the powerful image of him standing motionless while the bacon popped and the eggs cooked in that lovely kitchen he’d no doubt built with love and his own two hands.

As Aiden set several biscuits on a platter, Finn banged in from the lean-to wearing his barn clothes and a scowl. His brother took one look at the buttery biscuits and the fluffy eggs on the table and shook his head.

“What did I tell you?” he grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea. “Hooks.”

Guess there was no need to mention who had cooked breakfast. And a mighty fine one, too, judging by the smell of things. He’d loved Kate dearly, but she was not a good cook—not even a passable one. But Joanna, why, she could put his ma to shame in a cooking contest.

“I’m just glad not to have to fix breakfast,” he told his brother. It was partly the truth—close enough—but not the whole truth. It still hurt to remember how she’d been standing at the fancy range he’d ordered in to surprise his wife.

“This is how it starts.” Finn’s scowl turned to a grimace as he drew a chair back with his boot and slumped into it. “She’s gettin’ into your good graces. Treating you to a meal so you can see what a good wife she’d make.”

“I suppose the fact that she’s been living without paying rent on the back pasture, and wanted to do something in return, has little to do with it.” Now that Aiden’s mind had cleared, and the agony was gone from the empty place in his chest where his heart used to be, he could see what she might have been doing. For some reason he didn’t want to think too hard on, he could understand Joanna Nelson pretty easily.

He slid the platter into the warmer—food he intended to take over to the children later. “She’s just doing what she can. Heaven knows I could use having my load lightened a bit.”

Finn, as usual, either ignored the comment or didn’t figure it applied to him. “See? That’s how it’ll go. Next thing you know, she’ll have this house spick-and-span and her brats—”

“That’s enough, Finn.” Aiden reached for the teapot. “Mind your manners. Those are good kids.”

“—living in the upstairs bedrooms. Watch.” Finn took a loud slurp from his cup. “Open your eyes now and smarten up, Aiden. Stop her while you can, otherwise you won’t know what hit you. You’ll have a wedding ring on your finger and three more mouths to feed, and she’ll be gettin’ a free ride.”

If there was something he couldn’t imagine, it was a woman like Joanna behaving in such a way. No, she was quality—simple as that. A real good, hardworking, God-fearing woman. Aiden rolled his eyes and carried his steaming cup to the table. “I don’t want you talking about her like that.”

“Sure, don’t listen.” Finn was already crunching on the bacon Joanna had fried up. “You’ll see that I’m right.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something? How about grace?”

“Why bother?”

Aiden shook his head. The boy was never going to learn. “You might not want to believe in God, but that doesn’t keep Him from believing in you. Sit up straight, stop chewing and bow your head.”

Finn’s grimace darkened but he did as he was told.

“Dear Father,” Aiden began, bowing his own head and folding his hands. “Please bless this meal we are about to receive. Thank you for your bounty and keep us mindful of our blessings—”

“Amen,” Finn interrupted, with the intent to end the blessing, as if that was about all the religion he could take on an empty stomach.

One day, Finn was going to learn, but in the meanwhile, Aiden added a silent prayer. Lord, please watch over Joanna Nelson and her children. Show me the right way to manage this. “Amen.”

He opened his eyes, and saw Finn already biting into one of the biscuits, moaning because it was so good. Aiden didn’t need to take a bite to know that for himself. The buttery fragrance was making his stomach rumble. He reached for one and broke it open. Light and fluffy, better than even Ma could make.

There, out the window, he could see Joanna crossing the lawn toward the barn. She was walking with a fast stride, her head down, her shoulders set. She looked like one determined woman. One who always did the best she could.

Odd how he could see her so clearly. He slathered butter on the biscuit and took a bite—sheer perfection. No doubt about that. Finn was already digging into the scrambled eggs, and so Aiden did, too. They were light and fluffy, with plenty of flavor. Saying she had a gift for cooking would have been an understatement.

He chewed and chased it down with a gulp of tea, watching as Joanna disappeared into the barn. He stood up, wishing he could take his plate with him.

“Don’t you do it, Aiden,” Finn warned, as if he were about to take a plunge headfirst off a cliff. “Don’t you ask her to stay and cook for you.”

“Mind your own business.” Aiden didn’t look back. He was in no mood to put up with his slacker of a brother, who did the least he could get by with. “I expect you to take a page from her book and work harder at earning your keep around here.”

Finn grumbled something, but Aiden gave the lean-to door a slam so he wouldn’t hear it. That boy could get his dander up in three seconds flat. Maybe because there wasn’t an ounce of appreciation for the roof over his head.

“Joanna?” He wasn’t surprised to find her at the end stall, where he’d stabled her two horses. “Don’t trouble yourself with the team. I’ll bring them out after I’m through with breakfast.”

“I would like to get a good start on the day.” She gave the lead rope a twist to release it, and tried to back the old work horse into the aisle. “I have the wagon packed, so ten more minutes and we will be on our way.”

“To where, Joanna?”

“I shall figure that out on the way there.” She gave the gelding’s halter a gentle tug. “C’mon, boy. Back up. C’mon.”

Aiden laid the flat of his hand on the horse’s rump, stopping him before he could move. “I didn’t mean to run you off. I never should have spoken to you like that. I was surprised to see you there. Unprepared.”

“I understand.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “I overstepped my welcome. I only meant to do you a kindness, to pay back how you’ve been kind to us.”

“I know that. I’ve been a widower a long time. Maybe too long.” Pressure built in his chest, directly behind his sternum, making it hard to talk. Hard to feel. Hard to do anything. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

“I said I understand.” She sounded a little firm herself.

He hated that he’d done that to her. “That was Kate’s kitchen. I wasn’t prepared to see—” His throat closed up. The rest of him did, too.

“Another woman standing in her place.” Joanna finished for him.

Amazing that she could know that. Amazing that she could see what no one—not even his family—could understand.

“Don’t worry, Aiden. I didn’t mean to make you remember something that brings you so much pain. I intended to be leaving, anyway. I have a debt to you, and I will pay it. One way or another, you can be sure of that. Now, if you’d let me take my horse, I’ll be on my way.”

She was such a little bit of a thing, frail for all her strength. There was a world of fortitude in the set of her chin and the steel of her spine, but it wasn’t right to send her off just because it would be best for him.

No, that wouldn’t be right at all. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a moment, trying to listen to common sense, or maybe to that voice from heaven giving him a little direction. Just one word came to mind. “Stay.”