Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(24)

“You really got one for me? Which one?”

Ward held up his hands. “Wait a minute. They have to go back. I didn’t give permission. I don’t know if it’s okay with Anker.” He could think of a hundred different reasons to object but they faded from his mind as he watched Freyda stroking the little balls of fur.

“Nels said he knew Mr. Hansen would be glad to see them go. He’d said just on the way from church that he wondered what he would do with five kittens.”

Freyda looked at Ward with eyes full of pleading. “I’m sure that’s right. And I’d love to have a pet. I think it would be good for the boys to have one.”

Ward knew he was beaten. It was hard enough to think of saying no to the boys but downright impossible to refuse Freyda. Besides, they were halfway home and he had no wish to return to the Hansen place. “Very well, but in the future, please ask me before you do anything like this again.”

The three of them grinned widely and chorused, “Thank you.”

He waited until they resumed their journey and Freyda’s attention was on the kitten she still held before he allowed himself to smile.

A little later, he stopped at Freyda’s place and let her off. She held the kitten in the crook of her arm. “Thank you for the ride and for letting us have kittens.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t need his permission. She could have asked her brother for a cat and yet, he felt as if he had granted her a special gift.

“And thank you for standing up for me with Anker.”

“Freyda, you don’t need me to stand up for you, but I am glad to do it.” He looked into her eyes, lost himself in the blueness and something more. A sense of understanding, of caring, of sharing. It was as if he had caught a glimpse of a future as bright as her eyes.

He tried to force sense into his thoughts. Tried to remember the boundaries he couldn’t… wouldn’t…breech.

From the deep recesses of his mind came the memory of Aunt Myra screeching at him and the strapping she would inflict. Of Dorothy whining over something he’d done until his ears hurt from the barrage of complaints.

He jerked away. “Good afternoon.” Or was it evening? He couldn’t say. He only knew it was time to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stood at the step and waved as he drove away.

He could not satisfy the demands of a woman. Freyda might be different, but was he willing to risk his heart to find out? Was he willing to risk his boys’ happiness?

The answer was a resounding no.





6





Freyda woke in the dark to the sound of rain falling on the roof. Normally, she loved the sound of rain as long as it wasn’t driven by a thunderstorm. She hated thunder and even more so, lightning, having once seen a tree split down the center and incinerated. Rain was necessary for the crops and grass, but it meant there would be no farming tomorrow. She should be glad of the opportunity to stay home and tend to a few chores. Perhaps she’d bake cookies and share them with Ward and the boys. She pulled little Smokey to her chest and listened to his rumbling purr. Comforted by the kitten’s presence, she fell back asleep.

The next morning, she looked out the window and saw puddles on the path to the barn. Every blade of grass in the yard held glistening drops of rain. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Smokey purred and wrapped around her ankles.

She scooped him up. “At least I have you for company.” She went to the side window to look toward the Rollins’s place. Already, she missed them.

The best antidote to loneliness was busyness. She made herself a quick breakfast then set out a mixing bowl. It didn’t take long to mix up some snickerdoodle cookies, though she would far sooner share the task with two little boys even if it took more time.

While the cookies baked, she dusted the furniture and gave the little house a good sweeping, ignoring the way her thoughts echoed in the silence. Smokey chased her broom, and laughing, she picked him up and gathered him to her chest.

She finished the cookies. She washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. She gathered the eggs and fed the chickens. By then the cookies were cool and she put them in a crock and covered it tightly so they’d stay fresh. Now what? How was she to keep busy?

A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Her heart leapt with eagerness. He’d come to see her.

She rushed over and threw open the door. “Milo. Kit.” A quick glance informed her Ward was not with them and she told herself she wasn’t disappointed. “What are you doing here? Did your papa send you?” Did he need her help? Want her company?

Kit looked at her with big brown eyes. “We want to see you.”

Milo looked through her rather than at her. Suspicion surfaced. “Does your papa know you are here?”

No answer from Milo. Freyda caught Kit’s chin. “Does he?”

“He was in the barn. We was s’posed to stay in the house and not get muddy.”

Freyda looked at their shoes. Muddy. “You should listen to your papa. Very well. Leave your shoes on the step and come inside. I’ll get ready and take you home.”

Milo grinned at Kit as they obeyed her.

Freyda wrapped cookies in a cloth. “Smokey will have to stay in the barn until I get back. Milo, you carry his milk for me. Kit, you carry his breakfast.” She carried Smokey and the three of them settled the kitten on a blanket on a mound of hay with his food nearby. “Stay here,” she said to the animal.