Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(4)

Kit’s bottom lip trembled. “Who will feed us?”

Ward sat at the table and thanked Mrs. Haevre for the sandwich she put before him. Bread sliced thick with generous slices of cheese. Quite a contrast to Mrs. Wright’s paper-thin bread and almost invisible cheese. “I can make sandwiches,” he said to Kit.

“Would you like coffee?” Mrs. Haevre’s W’s sounded like V’s but then Ward had grown used to that in the months Baruk had lived nearby.

“Yes, thank you.”

“We’re done,” Milo said, and jumped down. He grabbed Kit’s hand and the pair hurried outside.

Mrs. Haevre put a cup of coffee before him, pulled out the chair opposite, and sat down. “May I speak openly to you?”

“Sure.” He guessed she would whether or not he gave permission. Baruk had said his wife was a headstrong woman. He’d said they’d argued because she wanted to come to America with him and help set up the homestead, but Baruk had insisted it was too much of a challenge for a woman. Ward wondered what Baruk would have said to his wife now. She’d come on her own and planned to run the farm on her own. Someone ought to tell her how much work it was. But it wouldn’t be him. He had enough problems of his own to deal with.

“Mr. Rollins.” No mistaking the warning in her voice. “I do not believe it is wise to leave your children unsupervised.”

“I will supervise them.” He kept his voice firm.

“Do you not have crops to seed and plowing to do?”

He took time to enjoy a mouthful of coffee before he answered. “Yup. Same as you.”

That stalled her, as he had hoped.

But only for a moment.

“I will find a way,” she said.

“I, too, will find a way.”

She intertwined her fingers where her hands lay on the top of the table. “The difference is that I have to find a way to work with two horses. It’s frustrating to discover that it is more difficult than I anticipated and that they seem to prefer your home to mine. But you have two little boys who can manage to get into a pile of trouble in only a few minutes.”

He pushed aside his empty plate and swallowed the last of his coffee before he got to his feet. “I will help you take your horses home and then I must return to my own work.”

She nodded and went out the door ahead of him.

“Boots and Boss, come.” The horses came at his call. “Milo and Kit, come. We’re going to take the horses home.”

He led a parade down the path to the Haevre place—two boys who scampered along at his heels, two horses who followed quietly, and a woman who walked on the other side of the horses.

They reached her corrals. “You’ll need to close the gate better,” he said.

“It was closed securely.”

“Make it more secure. I don’t have time to bring these horses back every day.” Especially now that he had to care for the boys on his own.

“They must know how to open the gate,” she said.

“Then figure out a way they can’t.” He handed her the lead rope for the two horses.

“Thank you,” she said.

“And thank you for watching the boys for me.”

They looked at each other. It seemed she was as much at a loss for words as he. So he sketched a good-bye salute, took his boys by the hand, and headed for home.

“I can do this,” she called after him.

“Me too,” he murmured, for no one’s ears but his own. How hard could it be to keep two little boys safe and fed on top of planting and plowing? He refused to answer his own question or think of the thousands of things that could go wrong.



Freyda waited until Ward and his sons were back at their farm to turn her attention to the horses. Boots and Boss. Had Baruk named them? He’d never said, but then Baruk hadn’t had time to include much news in the letters he sent. But the animals were aptly named. One thought it was boss, the other stamped his white-booted feet and studied her with defiance.

She shifted her attention to the plow and the seeder that Baruk had been so proud of. “They will repay themselves over and over because I’ll be able to plant faster.”

Freyda clenched her jaw. “I will do it.”

But first, she would eat. She hadn’t felt free to eat the Rollins’s food, and no one had invited her to.

She made a sandwich. It had been fun preparing a simple meal for Milo and Kit. All her life, she had been surrounded by lots of family. Cooking for herself seemed an empty, but necessary, activity.

As she ate, she stared out the window at the horses and the piece of farm equipment.

“I will do it.” How hard could it be? Hundreds of people did it every day. Surely some of them must be women, otherwise the American government wouldn’t allow women to be homesteaders.

She marched back outside to the corrals. “Come on, you two big boys. Boss and Boots. You will cooperate with me, ja?” She led them through the gate and took a step toward the plow. They headed down the trail, dragging her. She yelled, “Stop. Halt. No.” The horses didn’t understand any of her commands. Or if they did, they ignored her.

They didn’t stop until they reached the Rollins place.

Freyda gathered her battered dignity and looked around. It was strangely silent. Leaving the horses, she hurried around the barn and glanced up to the loft. Her breath whooshed out when she didn’t see any little boy clinging to the chain.