Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(14)

“But they can. They are very smart. Why, look at Freyda’s horses.” Four pairs of eyes turned to the horses slurping water from the trough. “They like it here so they come back every day. I don’t know what we are going to do about that.” He chuckled as he took his pair and led them back to the field.

Freyda looked at Boots and Boss. “Yes, what are we going to do about that?” There was only one thing to do. She had to take them home and persuade them to stay. In the days of her agreement with Ward, she would learn as much as she could from him so she could manage her work on her own.

She turned to the field where he guided his horses along the rich ground. The boys talked to each other. They needed her attention. They came first. Later, she would ask Ward to teach her what she must know. Perhaps she’d offer to teach him something in return.

“Come on, boys. Let’s get the dishes done then we can do something fun this afternoon.”

As they helped her with washing and drying, they asked what they could do. She laughed at their suggestions to pretend to be robbers. “Instead, let’s pretend we’re traveling west and robbers are after us.” She had often played a similar game with her younger cousins.

They left the house and she glanced Ward’s direction. He made a nice picture riding on his grain drill. He’d rolled up his sleeves. Her gaze rested on his forearms. It had stirred something in her to touch his warm arm. To feel connected to someone if even for an instant.

She pushed away the thought. She needed his help just as he needed hers but once her crop was in the ground and she knew how to control Boots and Boss, she would manage on her own.

Alone. But she would get used to that. Besides, she was but a holler away from her nearest neighbor should she get too lonely.





4





Ward watched Freyda and the boys slip from behind the house to behind the barn as if hiding from someone. He looked about for an intruder but when he saw nothing to give him concern, he decided they must be playing a game.

After a bit, the three of them sat in front of the barn. He couldn’t make out what they were doing though it seemed to involve picking long strands of grass from around the barn. Neither of the boys acted as if they were being kept there against their will. Ward knew he should relax.

Hadn’t Freyda shown concern on behalf of his sons when he had left the house in such a hurry? With a smile, he acknowledged it had been sweet to share good memories with them.

And hadn’t she brushed his arm simply to show concern?

He tried not to think how his nerves had lurched at her touch. How a bit of warmth remained at that very spot. Apart from guiding the horses up and down the field, Ward had nothing to do during the long spring afternoon but think. His thoughts carried him along paths of regret. His past had not given him much regard for women. A cruel aunt. A weak and demanding wife. Instinctively, he knew Freyda did not fit into either of those categories, but he could not decide where she did fit.

At the end of the field, he stopped to give the horses a breather and retrieved his canteen of water from a nearby grassy spot. He drank, then capped the canteen. Kit screamed and Ward jerked around. He took a step toward the house before he realized it was laughter he heard, not fear or pain, and he returned to the horses. He paused to listen and heard Milo laughing and another voice. Freyda laughing.

At least the boys were safe. He could not ask for more.

Nor, he informed himself several times, did he want more.

The sun dipped toward the west and his stomach growled loudly. Would she come soon and tell him supper was ready?

But he’d told her he wanted to work until dark…a choice he now regretted.

He could go in now. Say the horses were worn out. Say he needed more seed. Say he was hungry. But he would not. There was no need to change his mind.

He stayed the course until the shadows lengthened. It was time to take the horses in and care for them.

As he approached the house, he saw Freyda and the boys sitting on the step. An unfamiliar response bounced about in his heart. Were they waiting for him? He grinned and waved to them.

The boys ran out to join him.

Freyda followed. “Do you mind if I watch what you do with the horses so I can learn?”

“Not at all.” But his movements felt stiff and uncoordinated as he removed the harnesses. The boys sat on the nearby stall and watched.

“Explain everything you are doing.”

He glanced over his shoulder to her. “Don’t you know anything about horses?”

“Not much. Anker, my brother, helped my father with the horses. My sister, Signe, helped Mor with the cattle. Everyone said I was too young to help. And then I was old enough to take care of little cousins and that became my job.” She shrugged, though he thought it signaled resignation rather than unconcern. “I seemed to be always stuck in the middle. Too young for half the things. Too old for the other half.” She chuckled. “They didn’t believe I would come to America and take over the homestead.”

“I can understand their concern. A young woman with no experience—”

She jammed her fists to her hips. “How do you get experience other than by doing? I will learn. If you don’t want to help me, just say so.”

She took three steps toward the door.

Two little boys watched them with wide-eyed interest.