High Country Bride

“You already know the answer.” She took a few slow steps in retreat. She could not get to her wagon—or her children—without going past Mr. McKaslin. “My half brother has no interest in helping us. There is no one else.”

“What of your husband’s side of the family?”

“As he’s passed away, and his family did not approve of me, they want nothing to do with us. Not even for the children’s sake.” She didn’t know how it could possibly be, but her words seemed to make the man towering over her even angrier. He appeared to be restraining his fury, but it was a terrible sight. He was more than twice her size and strength, and as he began to breathe heavily with his anger, he seemed invincible.

A thin thread of fear shivered through her, but she firmly clutched her skirts, lifting them so she would not trip. Her first wobbly step took her closer to him. Closer to his rage. “Excuse me.”

To her surprise, he let her walk by. She did her best to ignore the stone pillar he seemed as she hurried past him, adrenaline kicking up with every step she took. Her children were waiting, sweet and good, with their faces and hands washed. They were carefully wiping up their water splashes. Her heart warmed toward them as it always did, and she hoped she could keep them safe.

“Ma?” James leaned close, all brightness gone from his face. “That man’s gonna make us leave again, ain’t he?”

Before she could answer, Daisy fisted her little hands in the folds of Joanna’s skirts and looked up with frightened eyes. “I don’t wanna go.”

“Why ever not?” She did her best to put a smile on her face and soothing love in her voice. She knelt down so they could look into her eyes and clearly see they should not be worried. “We always knew this was just a stopping off place. Why, we’re ready to go and start our next adventure. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No.” James would not be fooled, her poor little boy. “Do we gotta go now? Before supper?”

Aware of Daisy’s lower lip trembling and how intently the little girl watched her, Joanna tried to weigh her next words carefully. She did not want to make promises she could not keep. But neither did she want to be so truthful it shattered her children. She was out of options, and her prayers had simply gone unanswered for so long, they might never be again.

All she could do was the best she knew how. “All right, you two, start rounding up your toys. Be sure to get them all. We don’t want to leave any behind.”

“Okay, Ma.” James sighed with sadness, his shoulders weighed down as he went to bring in his wooden horses.

“Yes, Ma.” Daisy sniffed, her head down, and trudged away.

The wild grasses crunched beneath Mr. McKaslin’s boots. She dreaded facing him again. He strode toward her through the waving stalks, his work clothes rippling slightly in the strong westerly breeze and hinting at his steely strength. Vulnerable, she braced herself for whatever wrath he’d come to inflict on her.

He had some right, she admitted, for they were squatters. They were illegally using the land he worked hard to pay for and to maintain. She was, essentially, stealing from him. That shamed her.

Silence stretched between them, and she felt the rake of his gaze, taking her in from the top of her windblown hair, where escaped tendrils snapped in the wind, to the toes of her scuffed, patched shoes. She watched him fist his big, work-roughened hands, and expected the worst.

“You never told me, Mrs. Nelson. Where are you going to go?” His tone was flat, his jaw tensed, as if he was still fighting his temper. His blue eyes glanced past her to where the children were going about their chore.

“I don’t know.” Her throat went dry. Her tongue felt thick as she answered. “When I find employment, I could wire a payment to you. Rent. Y-you aren’t thinking of—of bringing the sheriff in?”

“You think I want payment?” Aiden’s voice boomed like winter thunder. “You think I want rent money?”

“Frankly, I don’t know what you want.”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t want. I don’t want…” His words echoed like cannon fire as he paused, and a passing pair of geese overhead honked in flat-noted tones. He grimaced, and it was impossible to guess what he would say or do.

She trembled not from fear of him—she truly didn’t believe he would strike her—but from the unknown. Of being forced to take the frightening step off the only safe spot she’d found since she’d lost Pa’s house.

When you were homeless, everything seemed so fragile, so easily off balance. It was a big, unkind world for a woman alone with her children. She had no one to protect her. No one to care. The truth was, Joanna had never had those things in her husband. How could she expect them from any stranger? Especially this man she hardly knew, who seemed harsh, cold and hard-hearted?

And, worse, what if he brought in the law?

“You can’t keep living out of a wagon,” he said, still angry, the cords straining in his neck. “Animals have enough sense to keep their young cared for and safe.”

Yes, it was as she’d thought. He intended to be as cruel as he could be. She spun on her heels, pulling up all her defenses, determined to let his hurtful words roll off her. She grabbed the towel the children had neatly folded and tossed it into the laundry box in the back of the wagon.

“Mrs. Nelson. I’m talking to you.”

“Yes, I know. If you expect me to stand there while you tongue-lash me, you’re mistaken. I have packing to get to.” Her fingers were clumsy as she hefted the bucket of water she’d brought for washing—she wouldn’t need that now—and heaved.

His hand clasped the handle beside hers, and she could feel the life and power of him vibrate along the thin metal. “Give it to me.”

Her fingers let go. She felt stunned as he walked away, easily carrying the bucket, which had been so heavy for her. Quietly, methodically, he put out the small cooking fire. He did not seem as ominous or as intimidating—somehow—as he stood in the shadows, bent to his task, although she couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t acting the way she was used to men acting. She was quite accustomed to doing all the work.

James scurried over, clutching his wooden horse, to watch. Daisy hung back, eyes wide and still, taking in the mysterious goings-on.

He was different when he was near to them, she realized. He didn’t seem harsh, and there was no hint of anger—or, come to think of it, any other emotion—as he shook out the empty bucket, nodded once to the children and then retraced his path to her.

“Let me guess.” He dropped the bucket onto the tailgate, and his anger appeared to be back. Cords strained in his neck and jaw again as he growled at her. “If you leave here, you don’t know where you’re going and you have no money to get there with?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Then get you and your kids into the wagon. I’ll hitch up your horses for you.” His eyes were cold and yet not unfeeling as he fastened his gaze on hers. “I have a shanty out back of my house that no one’s living in. You can stay there for the night.”

“What?” She stumbled back, and the solid wood of the tailgate bit into the small of her back. “But—”

“There will be no argument,” he snapped, interrupting her. “None at all. I buried a wife and son years ago, what was most precious to me, and to see you and them neglected like this—with no one to care…” His jaw clenched again, and his eyes were no longer cold.

Joanna didn’t think she’d ever seen anything sadder than Aiden McKaslin standing there in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked away, melting into the thick shadows of the summer evening.

Chapter Three

As he led the way across his land, it was all Aiden could do not to look behind him. He knew the covered wagon was following him across the rolling prairie, but he steeled his resolve. He would not turn around and see that woman alone, thin from hunger and pale with strain. He could not take any more, so he contented himself with listening to the plod of the tired horses’ hooves on the sun-baked earth, and the rhythmic squeak of the wagon’s rear axel.

Yep, he didn’t like this one bit, but he hated even worse the notion of sitting home tonight, comfortable and safe and fed, knowing that a nice woman and her children were unprotected and uncherished and alone.

No, it just wasn’t right. Emotion clogged his throat, making it hard to swallow, making it hard to breathe. He refused to let his gaze wander to the east, where the family cemetery lay in shadow, the headstones tall enough to see from his saddle. That’s what got him all stirred up. Seeing this woman alone, and her small children homeless, rubbed at the break in his soul that had never healed properly.

He didn’t see how it ever could. A loss like that was too much for a man to take.

It was a long ride home through the low rays of the sun. A cooling breeze kicked up, and he drew in the fresh air until it settled in his lungs. He let his chest empty of all the feelings in there. By the time he spotted the sun winking on the windows of home, he was safe from his wounds again.

The young boy’s voice rose above the call of a quail and the rustling wind in the grass. “Ma! Ma! Is that where we’re gonna live?”

Aiden tried not to be affected by the young’un’s excitement, nor by his mother’s gentle response.

“No, sweetheart, that’s where Mr. McKaslin lives.”

“But it’s so big, Ma. Are you sure?”

“Yes. We’re going to live in his shanty.”