Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(26)

Freyda felt a little sorry for Ward. This oldest son of his would never let him off easy.

“I guess I don’t know. You also need Mrs. Haevre’s permission.”

Milo shrugged. “Then why ask?”

Freyda joined Ward. “You are always welcome to visit, but only if you have your father’s permission.”

Milo nodded. “Okay. Then I’m sorry for going without asking and next time I’ll ask first.”

Ward hugged the boy. “Good.”

“Who would like cookies?” Freyda pointed to the table and both boys rushed over to help themselves.

“Thank you,” Kit said.

“Yes, thank you,” Milo added.

Ward caught Freyda’s hand sending a jolt through her arm. “Thank you,” he whispered, and stepped away before she could gather her thoughts. She’d only offered him advice from her own childhood.

“What did you name your kitten?” she asked the boys, glad of a safe topic.

Milo held the kitten on his lap. “His name is Storm Cloud because he’s the color of storm clouds.”

“He is, isn’t he?” She squatted at Milo’s side to pet the kitten. “Did he eat breakfast?”

“Papa made eggs for breakfast and I gave him some of mine.” Milo ducked his head but stole a look at his father to see Ward’s reaction.

“Next time,” Ward said, “I’ll remember to cook him an egg.”

Milo relaxed. “Can I feed him some milk?”

“Certainly.” Ward found a saucer in the cupboard, poured in a little milk, and handed the dish to Milo.

Milo took it and turned too suddenly. The milk splashed across the floor. He jerked to a halt, his eyes wide. The saucer slipped from his hands and shattered. “I’m a stupid boy,” he shouted, and kicked the nearest chair. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He ran to his room and slammed the door.

Ward’s face went slack, his mouth was open as he stared wide-eyed at the door. He let out a sudden sigh, opened his mouth as if to speak. Snapped it shut. Gulped. “Milo?” The word rasped from his throat.

Freyda could not think of a thing to say.

Kit slipped from the chair and went to the stove. From behind it, he pulled out a length of leather about four feet long. “You want this?” He handed it to Ward.

Ward took it. “What is it?”

“Mrs. W’ight used it on Milo when he was stupid.”

As the meaning of Kit’s words came clear, the strap slipped from his father’s fingers.

The blood drained from Freyda’s face, leaving her weak. Then it returned with a surge, bringing with it rage such as she had never known.

Ward strode to the bedroom door and threw it open.

Freyda quickly cleaned up the mess before she followed Ward, wanting to console both of them. Kit reached for her hand and she lifted him into her arms and hugged him tight.

Milo lay facedown on his bed. Ward sat beside him and rubbed his back. “You are not stupid. You simply had an accident. I would never punish you for an accident. Milo, you are my son. I love you and am proud of you.”

Milo didn’t move but Freyda could see that he wasn’t as stiff.

Ward turned him over and lifted him to his lap. “Kit showed me the strap Mrs. Wright used. I wish one of you would have shown me sooner.”

“She said you would thank her for teaching us how to behave.”

Ward glanced at Freyda, a look of helplessness on his face.

She went to Milo’s side and sat down. She pressed her head to Milo’s. “My parents never whipped me and I think I know how to behave, don’t I?”

Milo lifted his head and patted her cheek. “You’re nice.”

Tears leaked from Freyda’s eyes. “So are you. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

The four of them huddled together a few more minutes.

Ward set Milo on his feet, rose, and pulled Freyda up to stand beside him. “I have something to do and I need everyone’s help.”

He led them back to the kitchen where the length of leather lay on the floor. “Today we do away with Mrs. Wright’s strap.” He picked it up and went to the stove where he lifted one of the lids. “Milo, would you like to be the one to throw it on the fire?” He held it out to his son.

Milo hesitated a moment then grabbed the strap, bundled it up, and tossed it into the stove. The flames licked about it, curling the leather. They watched until it was reduced to a blackened shadow of itself then Ward put the lid back on.

“That is the last of that.”

Two little boys sighed.

Freyda’s chest muscles relaxed so much they pushed her breath out in a noisy rush.

Ward grinned at his sons.

“Why don’t I make some dinner?” Freyda said. The morning had flown by…at least, the time since the boys had come to her house.

She got the boys to help prepare vegetables for a hearty soup and in a short time they were gathered around the table. The mood was considerably lighter than it had been earlier.

And she was happy to have had a small part in the change.



Ward couldn’t stop smiling, both inside and out. He’d handled the situation well, with Freyda’s counsel and encouragement. He’d had the joy of seeing Milo smile freely for the first time since…well, he didn’t know when. The boy had always been serious, cautious, and a little defiant. But, Ward thought with a flash of anger—the boy was not stupid and no one should have ever told him he was.