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Fine, let him pace. He would eventually tire and leave. She would not sell the only home her boys knew.
She led the way to the kitchen, where the Regulator wall clock marked the time—a few minutes more until the final batch of bread was ready.
“Mr. Kline wouldn’t give me the part.” Only fourteen, Kirk planted his feet like a man, held out his hands the way Kol would have done, a stance of dignity. “He said I couldn’t put any more charges on our account. He needed cash.”
“How rude of him. Did you try the hardware—”
“I went everywhere. They all said no. I can whittle a piece after I get done working tonight. We’ll make do.” Kirk fisted his hands, trying to look strong and dependable. “I’d best get out in the fields. I’ve got wheat to cut.”
He was too young to be forced into a man’s responsibilities. Still, she was proud of him. “You won’t be harvesting alone. Mr. Lindsay was kind enough to bring his harvester.”
“For what price?”
“For free. Mr. Lindsay is doing us a fine thing, helping us.”
“Pa’s friends should have done that. He paid his share for the new harvester Mr. Dayton bought and he—” Anger left him searching for words.
It was the grief behind the anger, Rayna knew. It was a hard truth that in this world, people were not often just. Some people did rise to the occasion.
“We have a true friend in Mr. Lindsay.” Careful of her bandages, she sliced off a thick piece of warm bread for Kirk to snack on. “The butter crock’s on the table. Wait, let me cut a few more to take with you. Perhaps Mr. Lindsay is hungry.”
“I’ll fill the water jug on the way.” Kirk dug a knife from the sideboard’s top drawer. “Ma, I heard what Mr. Dayton said. How are we gonna do all the work without Pa? Will the bank take our house?”
“Don’t you worry. Your father would never have put us in a bad position. You remember that. He loved us. We will manage just fine. I’ll find a way.”
“I can help. I can take care of all the animals and the haying. I can do that by myself without any neighbors helping.”
He took the bread slices she offered, wrapped in a clean cloth, and added them to the lunch pail he’d retrieved along with the butter crock. “I heard you crying last night, Ma. I know you’re sad. But don’t you worry. I’m a man. I can take care of you.”
“I know you can.” Rayna resisted the urge to call him her sweetie and press a kiss to his brow.
Her son was growing up. Emotion ached in her throat as she watched him sprint through the back door. The screen slammed shut in his wake, echoing through the kitchen.
As if nothing had changed, she turned to the stove, mentally listing what she would need to prepare a big supper tonight. Kol would be hungry from working all day in the fields—
The air rushed from her lungs. She leaned against the counter, dizzy. She’d thought of Kol out of habit, from years of cooking for him.
He’s gone, Rayna. You have to accept it. You have to stop thinking that he’s next door or at town or on his way home. It should be simple, but it wasn’t. His chair was tucked in its place at the table. His favorite plaid shirt hung on the peg by the door.
She fought the urge to snap up the garment and hug it tight, to breathe in his scent still clinging to the fabric. As if that could bring back all that she’d lost.
Kol wouldn’t want her falling into pieces. He needed her to be strong, as she intended to do. For their boys.
It’s what she would do, because she loved him. She’d put aside the sadness and find enough strength to finish up the last of the baking. The loaves were ready, plump and golden. She breathed in the delicious yeasty smell.
The hot pad tumbled from her fingers as she realized what she’d done.
She had baked an even dozen loaves, as if Kol would be here to eat them.
“Whoa, boys.” Daniel hauled back on the thick double reins, drawing the lathered teams of Clydesdales to a stumbling stop.
He ignored the thick grit in his mouth and his sandy thirst as he swiped streams of sweat from his face. He bent to unbuckle the horse collars from the traces.
The crash of some wild animal plowing through the field rattled nearby heads of wheat. The forward team shied, turning in the leather bindings.
“Hold on, boys, nothing to be afraid of.” He tightened the lead set of reins to bring down the big black’s head before he could get the notion to take off in a dead run and lead the other horses into revolting right along with him.
His workhorses were a steady bunch. They ought to be tired enough that nothing short of cannon fire ought to spook them, so what was riling ’em up?
A flash of color emerged from the golden stalks. He spotted a whitish-blond-haired boy, rangy and tall, and out of breath. Fear widened his eyes as he gazed up at the giant black trying to bolt.
“I’m sorry, mister. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t worry about it, kid.” He laid a hand on the black’s shoulder, leaning between the traces to do it, a dangerous place to be.
The mighty Clydesdale calmed, now that the big animal realized it was only a boy.
“He’s not used to much company. It’s pretty quiet over at my place. Come on over. He won’t hurt you.”
The older of Kol’s boys took a wide berth around the snorting gelding. “I brought water and something to eat.”
Daniel took one look at the offered tin pail, battered from years of use, and shook his head. He was too hot to have any appetite. “Maybe when the sun goes down, but I’ll take the water jug. Is your name Kirk?”
“Yessir.” He offered the heavy crock.
Was it the one Rayna Ludgrin had been using? Daniel wondered as he pulled the cork. It had to be. There was a faint hairline crack at the mouth where it struck the earth when she’d dropped it.
How beautiful she’d looked. How alluring. The sudden image, unbidden and unwanted, shot into his mind. The memory of the water trickling through her honey-blond hair remained. A forbidden thought, but there all the same.
He closed his eyes as he drank. The cool rush of ginger water chased the grit from his tongue but did nothing to dispel her memory. Of her soft woman’s curves and her clean, lilac scent.
His gut punched. Enough of that. It was wrong to think of her that way. He was a man. He had a man’s needs. What he didn’t need was a woman of his own. No. He was a man who lived alone by choice. There were times when he regretted the choice and the loneliness.
That’s all this was. The lonesomeness of his life affecting him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched by anyone.
Unless it was old Mrs. Johansson down the lane, when he’d stopped to help her corral her runaway milk cow. Was that seven months ago? He’d offered to fix the broken fence line for her. The elderly widow, hampered by rheumatism, had been so grateful, she’d baked him a chocolate cake and delivered it along with a grandmotherly hug the very next day.
Seven months ago. Hell, nothing terrified him more than ties to another human being. Any ties.
“Thanks for the water, kid.” He corked the jug and got back to work.
“Uh, ’scuse me, mister.” The boy trailed after him, tall for his age, bucking up his shoulders like a man ready to face his duty. “It’s downright neighborly of you to lend a hand.”
“It’s the right thing to do. Your father was a good man. He helped me more than once. I owe him.”
“If I help you, then the work will go twice as fast.”
“That it will.” Daniel tossed over the second set of reins. “You know how to handle draft horses?”
“I feed and brush and exercise ours every day. You still got wheat to cut on your land?”
“That I do.” Daniel kept a short lead on the black, turning into the bright, stabbing sunshine. The field fell away to a creek that was more puddle than running water.
“Then I’d best help you with your harvesting, too,” young Kirk declared, chest up, chin level, shoulders braced. “That’s the way things are done. When someone helped my pa, he helped them right back. That’s what I intend to do.”
“You’re a good man, Kirk Ludgrin.” Daniel let the horses drink as he sized up the boy beside him.
You’re going to grow up too soon, boy, and there’s nothing I can do to help you. Circumstances happened, there was no stopping the bad that changed a life.
It was in the rising up to meet the circumstance that defined the man.
Daniel was glad he’d come. It felt right to repay Kol for an old debt.
“Walk with me to your barn,” he told the kid. “We’ll use your team for the rest of the afternoon, if you’re willing. My horses here have been working since sunup and they’re dragging their feet.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered, too young to feel responsible for the land he walked on. Too young to provide for the woman and children who lived in the pretty gray house on the rise, a home surrounded by roses and sunlight and endless sky.
If Daniel squinted, he could see Rayna Ludgrin kneeling in her garden. Such an attractive, slim ribbon of a woman, there was hardly nothing to her. He imagined the wind was ruffling the cotton fabric of her simple calico work dress and batting at the ties of the sunbonnet knotted beneath her chin.
A strange yearning filled him like nothing he’d ever felt before. It was different from need, different from lust, and it hurt like an old wound in the center of his being.
He had no time to give thought to it. There was work to be done. Wheat to cut. He had no leisure to waste on thoughts of a woman.
Or to wonder if her hands were bandaged and if they still bled.
Chapter Three
T he low rays of the sun speared through the endless and mighty Rocky Mountains, glared across the miles upon miles of high rolling plains and bore directly beneath her sunbonnet brim. Rayna’s eyes watered with the brightness as she trudged down the dirt path paralleling the fence line.
She was running late, darn it! Daniel and Kirk had to be starving.
She hurried, but the world around her took its own time. Larks trilled their merry songs, as they did every evening. Milk cows and beef steers rested in the shade from the orchard, their great jowls working their cuds as she scurried past.
“Nothing for you, sorry,” she told the animals, who were eyeing her basket hopefully. She shifted the crock against her hip, readjusted her grip on the supper basket and kept going.
A steer bawled after her in complaint.
One thing about hard work, it required all of her concentration. She’d had less time to grieve or to worry about Dayton’s comments on the bank as she’d hurried through her necessary household chores.
The path of gold she followed gave way to a sizable clearing. Neat stalks of straw lay seasoning on the ground and at the far edge of the clearing was her Kirk perched on the wagon seat. His hat was pulled low to shade his face and his bare torso shone red-brown from a hard day in the sun. Why, he looked more man than boy as he handled the team.
She was proud of him and the bubble of love that expanded within her every time she saw him, so sweet and pure and unbreakable, remained. Kol would want her to be strong for their sons. She steeled her spine, sure of her course.
“Mr. Lindsay?”
She could see his boots on the other side of the threshing machine.
He didn’t answer. Did he know she was here?
“Hold up, Kirk!” Lindsay’s bellow rose above the machinery, booming like thunder. “Ease up on the horses. Keep the reins short once they stop.”
The man emerged from behind the machine. Rayna saw a flash of bronzed skin and muscled shoulder as he thrust his arms into a blue work shirt. He shrugged the garment into place without bothering to button up, offering glimpses of a strong chest.
Rayna’s face heated. She’d never seen another man without his shirt. She didn’t know where to look.
“Good. I’ve been waiting for you.” Lindsay hefted up the ten-gallon jug as if it weighed nothing and drank from it with long, deep pulls.
Didn’t he intend to button his shirt?
“Ma! Did you see? Daniel let me drive the team! And I handled ’em good, too. Just the way Pa showed me.”
“I saw. Your pa would be proud of you.”
“Do you think?”
“He’s done a fine job.” Daniel Lindsay handed over the water with a brief nod of approval. “It looks like your ma has brought your supper. Sit down and eat, boy. You deserve a rest.”
Kirk dug into the basket. He tore into a chicken leg while he unloaded plate after plate of food with his free hand, monopolizing the meal. Daniel Lindsay returned to his machine, as if he planned on working.
“I made food enough for all of us,” she said. “Please, come eat.”
He gathered both sets of reins and settled the thick leather straps between his wide fingers. “I don’t stop until dark.”
“But you need to keep your strength up.”
“I need to get as much done as I can. A storm’s coming.”
“What storm?” There was hardly a cloud in the sky. A wisp of white at the rolling edge of the horizon cut through the low sun like a razor blade. “I don’t see any thunderheads.”
“I smell ’em. It may blow over. It may not. Either way, I won’t sit on my arse when there’s work to be done.”
“I could make you a sandwich—”
“No.” He snapped the reins, calling out to the horses.
The teams pulled forward, lunging against their heavy leather collars. The machine groaned to a start, blades clacking.
“Then tell me how I can help.”
“You can go in the house where you belong.” Daniel didn’t expect her to understand. “You’ll be happier there.”
“I’m not afraid of a little farm work.”
“Then let me see your hands.” He slackened the reins and the horses halted. What was she going to do? Work in the fields like a man? She was a beautiful woman, not rough and made for hard work.
No, Rayna Ludgrin was creamy flawless skin and china-doll fragile. He reckoned he could span her waist with his hands. “You’re wearing gloves, so I can’t see the bandages.”
“That’s the idea.”
