Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(36)

She helped them. “Why not crawl under the covers and be comfortable while I tell you a story?” Perhaps they’d fall asleep.

“Once upon a time, in Norway,” she began, and told them a story from her youth. By the time she finished, Kit was sound asleep. Milo struggled to keep his eyes open.

Freyda bent over and kissed each of them. To Milo, she said, “Papa will come in as soon as he’s home. I promise.” She tiptoed out and returned to the kitchen. There was little she could start this late in the day. She wandered from the cupboard to the stove, to the table and then to the window. Dusk had settled over the land.

She stepped outside and looked toward the field. Ward was a silhouette against the grey sky. He soon wouldn’t be able to see where he was going. He reached the end of the field and turned the horses toward home. He was done. Tomorrow they would start on her crop.

She hugged herself. With Ward’s help she would learn to use the horses and do her own work. She would achieve her goal.

Her arms tightened. Being a woman on her own had somehow lost its appeal. Oh yes, she still wanted to prove herself capable of doing something worthwhile on her own. But was this what she wanted?

Ward unhitched the seeder by the barn. He let the horses drink then took them inside to brush them and feed them. They had earned a few days of rest while her horses would now do their share. They had stayed at home since Ward had closed the gate and she’d taken to giving them a ration of oats every day.

Freyda went to the barn and stood by the door as Ward worked. “It’s nice you finished.”

“You’ll be glad that tomorrow I start on your field.”

That wasn’t why she was happy he was done. “It’s important for you to get your crop in. You need it.” She’d said it poorly. Would he understand that she was pleased on his behalf?

He straightened and looked at her. “You need yours too in order to survive the winter.” Their gazes held over the distance though it was too dark for her to guess what they revealed.

“Winter.” She hadn’t meant to whisper the word aloud. “A long, lonely time.” She imagined herself sitting in a cold room, huddled close to the stove for warmth. Forcing herself out of the house to do the chores. Spending the rest of the time alone. Perhaps she’d read. Or sew. Maybe she’d make a quilt or two. At least she had Smokey for company, but the thought did not ease the knot tightening around her heart.

She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts. She would do what she must do. “Your supper is ready.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Freyda hurried back to the house. She lit the lamp and set it in the middle of the table. She didn’t have to wait long to hear Ward’s boots clatter on the step. Her insides jolted. Ignoring her reaction, she pulled two plates from the warming oven and set them on the table.

“I thought I would eat with you, Keep you company. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I appreciate it. Are the boys in bed?”

“They are and I promised you would kiss them good night as soon as you got in.”

He crossed to the bedroom and went inside, stepping out a minute later. “Both are sound asleep.” He joined her at the table, bowed his head, and asked a blessing then tucked into his food with the eagerness of a man who had done physical work all day.

“Thanks for doing the laundry,” he said between mouthfuls.

“I didn’t mind. There’s something satisfying about watching clothes flap on the line and then bringing them in and smelling that clean scent.”

His eyebrows went up. “You sound like you enjoy doing laundry.”

“I do. Same with washing dishes. I love to stand back and see them in neat, clean piles in the cupboard then look around to see the kitchen free of dirty dishes.” She sighed expansively.

He chuckled. “I had no idea housework was so much fun.”

She shrugged, half embarrassed by her confession. “Don’t you feel the same about finishing a field?”

“I suppose I do. I take pride in straight rows and the job done.”

“There you go. We’re like matching bookends.” She stuffed a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. What was wrong with her to speak that way? As if to suggest—

“We do make a good team.” He stirred the gravy around on his plate. “Too bad—” He didn’t finish. Instead, he scooped up the last of his meal and filled his mouth.

She didn’t dare ask what he’d been about to say. Afraid she would be disappointed.

Because? she demanded of her foolish heart.

With a barely audible sigh, she answered herself.

Because she longed for more than either of them was prepared to offer.

Ward finished and she gathered up the dishes and put them in the dishpan.

“Leave them,” he said.

“But I can’t. I won’t be back in the morning.” She glanced around the room and admitted to herself that she would miss coming here and taking care of Ward and the boys. Don’t be silly. They’ll be coming to your place.

But only until her crop was in the ground and then there would be no need for anything but occasional neighborly visits.

“I’ll wash them along with the breakfast dishes. You need to get home.” He pulled the lantern off the shelf and lit it. “It’s full dark. Take this. Swing it when you reach home safely.”