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“At first he growled but Miss White reminded us we are all newcomers. Wouldn’t we want people to help us?”
Sounded like a smart woman.
They neared the Faulks’ property and a big brute of a dog raced toward them, barking and snarling. “I see Devin is visiting his folks.” The dog belonged to the grown Faulk boy who wandered in and out at will. Conor turned the horse to face the dog and shouted, “Stop. Go back.”
The dog halted, his hackles raised, his lips rolled back to reveal his vicious teeth. But he didn’t advance.
Rae’s fist clutched at his shirt as if she thought the horse would rear and she might fall.
“Noble isn’t about to let an old dog make him act crazy.”
Her fingers uncurled. “Yeah, I know.” She sounded a little uncertain.
“You aren’t scared of that old dog, are ya?”
“Nah.”
“Good, because he’s nothing but hot air and bluff.”
They resumed their journey and his thoughts slid uninvited and unwelcome back to the schoolmarm. Rae’s mind must have made the same journey because she resumed talking about the day.
“Miss White asked George what his best subject was. He’s very good at arithmetic. Miss White gave him all sorts of problems to solve and he did them all. Miss White said he needed to cap’lize on his strengths. Pa, what does cap’lize mean?”
He grinned, picturing little Miss White finding a way to make George feel good after a scolding.
“Capitalize means to make the most of something.”
“I like Miss White.” Rae’s voice was soft, filled with awe.
Conor’s skin prickled. He knew his little daughter missed having a mother. But she would only be hurt if she looked for a substitute.
“I hope she stays.”
Best to make Rae face the truth. But he wanted to spare her pain. Maybe with a little help she would figure it out herself. “You think she will?”
“She’s smart.”
“Uh-huh. But is she tough?”
“She’s awfully pretty.”
He squeezed the reins until they dug into his palm. He’d endured enough pain and disappointment with pretty women. So had Rae. Best she face facts and deal with them. “Now, Rae, how many times have I told you what use is pretty?”
“Yeah, Pa. I know. A person has to be strong to survive.”
“Don’t you be forgetting it.” They turned toward their little house. This was where they belonged. He would fight to keep this place. He’d teach Rae to deal with the hardships. “You go on in while I unsaddle Noble.”
A few minutes later he returned to the house, intent on getting a drink of water before he resumed working. Rae stood peering into the cracked mirror over the washstand. She turned as she heard him enter and grinned, waiting for him to admire her hair.
He felt like someone whacked him alongside the head with a big old plank. Oh, how she looked like her mother. “Hair ribbons.” Pretty stuff. Useless stuff. The sort of thing that made women pine for a life that wasn’t possible out here. People—men and women alike and children, too—had to forget the ease of life back East where supplies were around the corner, help and company across the fence and being pretty and stylish mattered. Out here survival mattered and woe to anyone who forgot. Or pined for things to be different. His wife had done the latter. She’d willingly left the comfort of Kansas City to follow his dream of owning land but she’d been unprepared for the challenges. In the end, she’d let them defeat her. She got a cold that turned fatal because she didn’t have the will to live. “Where did you get them?” His mouth felt gritty.
“Miss White gave them to me. And Hilda did my hair.” Her eyes were awash with hope and longing.
He could allow this tiny bit of joy. But no. He must not allow weakness in himself any more than he could allow it in Rae. “Tomorrow we give them back.”
“Pa.” Pleading made her drag out the syllable.
“How many times have I told you? Only the strong survive out here. You want to survive or don’t you?”
“Yes, Pa.”
“You and me are going to make ourselves a home out here. Now aren’t we?”
“That’s right, Pa.”
“Then put the ribbons aside before they get dirty and tend to your chores.”
She nodded. In her eyes determination replaced hope. And how that hurt him. But he had to be strong for the both of them. She pulled off the ribbons, rolled them neatly and put them beside her lunch bucket.
“There’s hours of daylight left. I’ve got to get the crop cut and stooked. Uncle Gabe will be coming any day.” He and Gabe helped each other. “I won’t be back until dark. You know what to do. Think you can handle it?”
She tossed him a scoffing look. “I can handle it. You know it.”
He pulled her against his hip for a quick hug. “Proud of you, Rae.”
“You’ll come in and say good night when you get home? Even if I’m sleeping.”
“Always. You can see me from the yard. If you need me all you have to do is bang on the old barrel.”
“I know.”
He hated to leave her although he’d been doing so longer than he cared to think about. Since Irene had laid down and quit living more than two years ago, leaving him to raise Rae on his own. But he didn’t have much choice. The work did not do itself, contrary to the hopes of men such as Mr. Crome.
He turned and headed for the field as Rae went to gather eggs.
It was dark when he returned. He searched the kitchen for something to eat and settled for a jam sandwich. He wiped dried jam from a knife in order to use it. They were about out of dishes fit to eat from. He’d have to see if Rae would wash a few. He’d also have to find time to go see Mrs. Jones who sold him his weekly supply of bread.
Rae had dumped out her lunch bucket in preparation for tomorrow’s food. The hair ribbons lay on the lid.
Miss White would no doubt look all distressed when he returned the ribbons and set her straight about what was best for Rae. He could imagine her floundering as she tried to apologize. Best she learn life here was tough.
Maybe she could return to her safe home back wherever she’d come from. Before she had to endure the harshness of a Dakota winter.
Yet he felt no satisfaction at knowing he would be among those who drove Miss White away. And his regret made him want to kick himself seven ways to Sunday. He knew better than most the folly of subjecting a pretty woman to the barren pioneer life.
He checked on Rae. She slept in her shirt, her overalls bunched up on the floor beside the bed. Dirty clothes lay scattered across the floor. He didn’t have time to do laundry until after harvest.
He pulled the covers around Rae and stood watching her for a few minutes. He would never understand how Irene could give up on life. He thought she shared his goal. Having grown up in Kansas City with a father who went from one job to another and took the family from one poor hovel to the next, he’d vowed to provide for himself and his family a safe, permanent home even if he had to wrench it from this reluctant land with his bare fists. He would let nothing stand in his way. Not weakness. Certainly not a hankering after silly, useless, pretty things. Rae’s mother should have fought. For Rae if not other reasons. He renewed his daily vow to make sure Rae had a safe and permanent home.
Chapter Two
He took Rae to school the next day. “Run and tell Miss White I need to speak to her, then go play with your friends.” He didn’t want Rae hearing this conversation.
Miss White paused to speak to one of the Schmidt boys as she crossed the yard to where he waited. She smiled at him as she drew closer. Her lips were pressed together. No flash of white teeth like he’d seen as she spoke to the children. Perhaps Rae had said something to warn her of his displeasure.
He held out his hand. “Here’s your hair ribbons.”
She refused to lift her hand and take them. “I gave them to Rachael. They’re hers.”
“She has no need of them. This is pioneer country. One has to be strong to survive.”
“And how, sir, does a ribbon in one’s hair make for weakness. Does it somehow suck life blood out the roots of one’s hair?” She faced him squarely, her eyes bold and challenging.
What happened to the apologetic distressed female he’d imagined? “It’s what it signifies.”
“You mean self-respect?”
She was one argumentative woman. “Useless things. Things for looks.”
“Beauty is not a useless thing. It’s a refreshing thing. Like a rainbow, a sunset or a blossom.”
Conor wondered what use a blossom was. “Do any of those put food on the table or hay in the barn?”
“‘Man shall not live by bread alone.’”
“Might surprise you to know that I recognize that as a Bible verse and I’m pretty sure it refers to needing God’s word. It has nothing to do with things just for lookee see.” He grabbed her hand and pulled it forward. He uncurled her fingers and pushed the ribbons into her fist. “Don’t have no need for hair ribbons.”
My how her eyes did flash, as full of fire as a winter stove. Faint color brushed her cheeks, making her look like some kind of fine china. But the way she stood, her fists clenched at her side and her jaw jutted out as if about to challenge him to defend himself, he knew she was a little scrapper. He liked that in a person.
His thoughts collided so harshly he reached for his forehead intending to grab it to stop the sudden headache, but then he thought better of it. No way would he let her guess she’d surprised him.
Yeah, she might fight for an ideal while surrounded by safety of the schoolyard, a town within walking distance and a home in one of the finest houses in the virgin settlement. But real life was vastly different. “Pretty little hair ribbons and righteous indignation are about as necessary and helpful as…” His thoughts stalled. “As dandelion fluff.”
She sniffed and tossed her head as if his words were meaningless. “Are you going to tell God His creation is useless?” She stomped away—daintily, of course—without a backward look.
Which left him no choice but to call to her back. “Me and Rae are survivors.”
Survivors! As if that provided excuse enough for the way he treated Rachael. Forcing her to grow up like a boy. Virnie paused inside the door where no one could see her and struggled to gain control of her emotions.
Miss Price had helped her get past the feelings deposited by her father.
She lifted her head. She would do the same for Rachael. There were things she could do in school and she intended to do them but she’d like to help the girl more.
Lord God, provide me an opportunity.
The next two days Conor brought Rachael to school and returned to wait for her when the day ended. He didn’t ride away until Virnie looked at him. And his look warned her not to interfere with the way he raised his daughter.
His silent insistence only increased her determination. She would find a way to help Rachael. She continued to pray for some kind of opening.
Friday afternoon, the children raced home, happy for the weekend. Except for Rachael who sat on a swing outside, waiting for her father.
Virnie, having no desire to see Conor again and relive all the emotions that insisted on surfacing each time she saw him, remained at her desk marking papers. Or at least she tried. Finally she put her pencil down, planted her elbows on the ink-stained surface and tipped her head into her palms. It was seven years since she last saw her father. She’d firmly put that part of her life behind her when she left with Miss Price. It was dead and gone as far as she was concerned. So why did it haunt her?
She sighed and returned to marking the papers. She knew Conor was the reason. Conor and Rachael. Their situation too clearly mirrored her early life and brought back unwanted memories.
The swing creaked. Virnie glanced out the window. Rachael still waited. Where was her father? She moved to the window and glanced down the road. No sign of dust indicating a rider. She slipped out to join the girl, sitting on the nearby swing so they could talk.
“Is your Pa coming for you?”
Rachael scuffed her shoes in the dust and studied the tracks she made. “Don’t think so.”
“How are you to get home?”
“Walk. Done it lots of times.”
Virnie waited, wondering why the child hadn’t already left but Rachael didn’t seem about to offer any answers. “Did you want something?” Perhaps this was the opening she’d prayed for. “Is your father at home?”
“He’s cutting the crop.”
“I see.” Only it didn’t answer her question as to whether or not he would be watching for her return. “Do you want to help me clean the chalkboard?”
“Sure.” She raced back to the school, Virnie on her heels. As they washed the board and cleaned the brushes, Virnie talked and silently prayed.
“I sure appreciate your help. You’re a good worker.”
“Pa says a person has to pull their weight in this country.”
Virnie supposed it was true about most places. She wanted to know how Rachael felt about being a girl. “Guess it doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl, you can do your share.”
“Pa says women have to be strong in order to survive out here. Say there’s no room for weakness.”
He did, did he? Well, strength could be disguised under velvet just as much as it could be revealed in leather. And it was time Conor found that out. Except she didn’t plan to be the person to show him. He reminded her too much of her past and she didn’t welcome the reminder.
She washed the chalk dust off her hands. “The blackboard and brushes are nice and clean, ready for Monday morning.”
Rachael had no reason to linger and yet she did. Tiny bubbles of apprehension skittered along Virnie’s nerves and she shivered. Was there a reason Rachael did not want to go home? Was Conor hurting her physically and Rachael wanted to tell Virnie but didn’t know how? “Is there something wrong at home that you don’t want to go there?”
Rachael shot her a surprised look. “Not at home.”
Relief warmed Virnie’s veins. Somehow she found it difficult to contemplate an abusive Conor. “Then what’s wrong?”
Rachael hung her head and studied her toes.
Virnie caught the girl’s chin and forced her to face Virnie. She kept her voice soft even though tension made her feel brittle inside. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Rachael scrubbed her lips together as she considered Virnie. Finally, her dark brown eyes wide, she whispered, “I don’t want to walk home.”
“But why? Haven’t you done it lots of times before?”
